


At Least We Stole the Show

by Sakharov



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:57:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakharov/pseuds/Sakharov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle and Gold decide to pretend to date to have a laugh at Storybrooke's expense, but they soon begin to wonder if the teasing and flirting is only good fun or if it is in earnest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Proposition

 

Belle rolled her eyes at her phone. Fifteen minutes after they were supposed to meet for drinks at The Rabbit Hole, one of Storybrooke's fancier establishments, Ruby had sent her a text saying she wasn't going to make it. Eyeing her half-full Long Island iced tea, Belle figured she would at least stay at the bar long enough to finish it.

A few sips later she regretted her decision when a familiar voice said, "Hey Belle" and the familiar figure of Gaston slid into the seat next to her.

Belle found herself rolling her eyes again and wondering, not for the first time, why she had thought it a good idea to return to Storybrooke.

"Hi Gaston."

They had dated in high school although these days Belle could never remember why. He wasn't a bad person, per se, but he was about as interesting as a sack of potatoes. She couldn't figure out what they had ever talked about.

"Here alone?" Gaston asked.

"No, I'm waiting for someone," she said quickly. Despite not being the brightest bulb in the box, he was persistent, and he had already found her in the library and asked her out, "for old times sakes." It had taken forever to get rid of him, as he kept pushing for them "to see if something could work" while she was back in town for the summer. Sitting alone at the bar would give him the perfect opening.

"Oh?" he asked. "Like a date? I really think you should give us another chance. We were great once." There was a pained, puppy-dog-esque look on his face.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she said, seizing upon the suggestion and failing to remember the "great times" he spoke of. "That's probably him now. Goodbye, Gaston." She waved a hand toward the door as she heard it open.

"Your date is with Mr. Gold?!" Gaston said, much louder than necessary, a look of horror on his face.

"Erm," said Belle with a sinking feeling, half-turning to confirm that it was indeed Gold who had walked through the door. She was about to correct matters when Gold himself walked towards them, obviously having heard Gaston.

Gold's eyes flickered between them and he asked in a voice that was soft but deadly, "Is it really beyond belief that Miss French and I would be on a date, Mr. Rose?" 

Gaston had scrambled to his feet and quickly stammered, "No, of course not, my apologies Mr, Gold, I meant no disrespect-"

Belle thought she saw a flicker if amusement in Gold's eyes as he said curtly, "That's quite enough out of you. Good evening, Mr. Rose."

Gaston bolted for the door, mumbling apologies, and Belle's smile at his hasty retreat died when Gold turned to look back at her. His eyes were dark and his gaze piercing as he studied her.

"Thank you for that," she said somewhat sheepishly, finding her voice after a moment, feeling young and immature next to the impeccably put-together Mr. Gold with his old-world manners. "I guess I'll be going now too."

"I was under the impression we were on a date," said Gold, the spark of amusement returning, a crooked smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying himself. 

"We don't have to- You don't have to have dinner with me- I’ll just head-" Belle said quickly, biting her lip and probably blushing, conscious that this was the most she had ever spoken to the man, although his reputation proceeded him.

"I think you owe me a story at least as to how we got here." He spoke with the air of someone unaccustomed to being questioned and turned before she could answer to be shown to his table.

She paused for a moment, but then shrugged and, figuring she had no other plans and Gold certainly was an intriguing figure, followed him. He had caught on quickly enough to get rid of Gaston for her, so maybe that same quickness and wit would shine through in dinner conversation, making Gold stand apart from anyone one else she was likely to dine with in Storybrooke.

And so Belle found herself seated across from the man the whole town feared at a table in the corner. She raised her wine glass to return his salute, putting on a confident front and not thinking too hard about who she was dining with. 

"So, Miss French, what brings you back to Storybrooke?" Gold asked, leaning back and sipping at his wine.

Belle made a face. "I'm back to finish my dissertation. I'll defend it in August, and although I had hoped to spend the summer elsewhere that... funding fell through, and because I'm accepting a job at Cambridge in the fall, I figured this could be a chance to spend some time with my father before I head across the pond. Things haven't exactly proceeded as I would have wished them to so far, but I'm hoping my luck will change."

She had had a run of bad luck, starting when she caught Will cheating on her in the spring, but Gold didn't need to know that. They had planned to go to Rome, to stay with his parents, but the end of the relationship ended that plan. And because her friends in New York were mostly their friends and she was done with the city, she had opted for a change of scenery completely. She had thought that perhaps up-state Maine would be good for writing, but so far that had not proved to be the case. 

"Oh?" said Gold, looking at the woman across from him, impressed in spite of himself. He hadn't known what he expected when they sat down together, and had only insisted on her joining him because he was bored and chasing away Gaston had been the most amusing thing to happen that week, but she was proving more interesting than he anticipated. He remembered she had worked at the library during the summers when she came back from college, but she had been gone for several years now. "Your dissertation? What are you writing about?"

 She raised an eyebrow at him as if wondering if he really cared and he got the sense that not many people in Storybrooke did. "Ancient Rome. The conflict between Cicero and Cataline in 63 BC and what it meant for the end of the Roman Republic. If all goes well I'll be getting my PhD in history in the fall."

"It seems to me congratulations are in order. What an interesting subject." And he meant it. He raised his glass to her. 

Belle shrugged, brushing off the compliment. "Most people would disagree and would question the practicality of such a degree," she said, studying the man across from her.

Gold frowned slightly and scoffed. "Most people. What do they know? It was just the other week that I saw a picture of a Hungarian protestor with a sign using Cicero's famous quote _'Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra_?' but with his own cause inserted in Catiline's place."

"'How long, Catiline, will you go on abusing our patience?'" said Belle, translating from the Latin and smiling her first real smile of the night, and the thought occurred to Gold, he wasn't sure from where, that it really was a lovely smile.

The thrill of finding someone who knew something about Rome pushed aside the lingering misgivings Belle had about joining Gold for dinner.

 "That most famous of quotes when Cicero denounced Catiline on the Senate floor," Belle continued, warming to her subject. "It's still alive and well today, although I don't know if all those who use it could explain where it came from."

"Probably not," said Gold. "I imagine Cicero would be pleased though, that through one of his quotes he achieved a sort of immortality."

The subject of Ancient Rome, the fall of the Republic, and why studying the events of two thousand years ago was still important carried them through dinner. The combination of good food and intelligent conversation and wine created an atmosphere of contentment and something akin to friendship between Belle and Gold by the time the dinner plates were cleared away. Each felt they had found a kindred spirit of sorts in the other and were pleasantly surprised by the course the evening had taken.

"Dessert?" Gold asked as the table was cleared.

"If you're having something," said Belle. She hated being the only one to order dessert; she much preferred to dine with others who enjoyed sweet indulgences as much as she did.

"The flourless chocolate cake is especially good here," said Gold, and motioned to the waiter.

As they waited, Gold said, "You mentioned earlier things haven't gone as you might have wished them too since you arrived back in Storybrooke." 

"No, said Belle with a sigh. "I'm working part time at the library and living in the apartment above it. I though it and the closeness of the woods and ocean would be a good setting for writing, and that it might be nice to see family and old friends. But it turns out I was wrong on all accounts.

The apartment doesn't have air-conditioning and if I try to write in the library, people seem to take that as an invitation to start talking to me. The old friends and I don't have much in common - I left and they stayed here. And it seems everyone thinks I'm actually here to settle down. They don't understand I want more than this," she finished rather bitterly.

She hadn't meant to unload her grievances, but Gold nodded understandingly. "I suppose Mr. Rose is one such person?" 

Belle winced. "Unfortunately so. He doesn't get it. Thank you for helping to get rid of him earlier. I didn't actually say we were on a date, I said I was waiting for someone and you came in at the opportune moment."

"It was nothing. It seems you don't have much love for Storybrooke, Miss French."

Belle shook her head. "No. The small-mindedness, the lack of interest in the world, the gossip, how everyone knows everyone else's business as if there isn't anything more interesting to talk about ... I'm sorry, I know it's your home." She stopped talking abruptly, hoping she hadn’t offended her dining companion. 

But Gold merely smiled a small smile and shrugged and said, "Circumstances brought me here and I was left, one might say, as a starfish washed up by an unusually high tide to a place on the beach waves do not normally reach. I don't care for it here though, for all the reasons you mentioned and more." But somehow, because of what happened all those years ago, I can't leave either, he finished silently.

"Growing up here I always thought surely there was more to the world and was determined to leave. But now I'm back," said Belle.

 "I'm sure you'll get away again. I don't see you staying here." 

Gold looked away and seemed to be thinking something over. "Miss French, I think I have a proposition for you that could benefit us both and allow us to have a laugh at Storybrooke's expense. It will sound strange at first, but let me explain."

"Alright. Go on."

"We pretend to be dating."

Belle blinked. She didn't know what she had expected, but it hadn't been that. He said it so languidly though, and so she said, more bravely than she felt, helped by the atmosphere of contentment the evening had cultivated, "I'm intrigued. What did you have in mind?"

There was a spark of animation in Gold's eyes as he began to talk, and Belle got the sense he loved scheming. "It would purely be a business arrangement, something that could allow both of us to have a more agreeable summer, and while we would spend time together, nothing more would be expected," he said, wanting to clarify from the beginning that their "relationship" would be platonic in nature. 

"It seems to me such an agreement could benefit us both. You would have an answer when people ask about your personal life, and I think people would be horrified enough they wouldn't press for details. I'm at the pawnshop during the week and so you'd be welcome to spend time at my house. Not only do I have air-conditioning, but I have a sizable personal library that includes many books that might be of special interest to you."

"That certainly sounds enticing," she said, smiling at the thought of the reactions they would get. "But what would you get out of it?"

"I dislike inquiries into my personal life and your presence at various social events over the summer would stave off said intrusions and perhaps even allow for me to get away earlier than I could otherwise. I don't like this town or being social, but certain things are expected from someone of my stature." _And maybe you being there would even provide the opportunity for intelligent conversation_.

“I think the looks and whispers that would follow us around were we to play up being a couple would be highly amusing and a reward in and of themselves. Think of all the time that would be expended on such gossip, and all for naught. And this would be a way to have a laugh at this town's small-mindedness, because I doubt many would approve of such a pairing.

Cone the end of summer we would part on amicable terms privately, but publicly it could be because you finally realized that I really am the monster the town believes me to be.

Here comes dessert. Think about it, and let me know."

As they ate the cake, Belle mulled over the proposal. It was tempting, from the private space he offered for writing to the chance to get back at Storybrooke. And as for Gold himself... She sneaked a look at him over the cake. He was intimidating to be sure, but she felt she had seen another side of him that night, one the rest of the town didn't see, and that other side led her to believe they could possibly be friends. The prospect of spending more time together wasn't unappealing. And he was handsome, in an elegant, timeless sort of way, and his fierce pride and intelligence made him all the more attractive. Not that that came into it, though. She was just around for the summer, and so why couldn't she have some fun as she finished her dissertation?

"Alright," said Belle, putting down her fork and deciding, even though she hardly knew the man, to be bold. "Let's do it."

"I'm glad we seem to have a deal, said Gold, surveying her across the table. They shook hands, and he signaled for the bill. 

Belle made to reach for her purse, but Gold tsked. "Come now, Miss French, dinner is on me. If we're going to play this game there are certain things you will have to accept. If I do something, I do it well, and this is no exception. If we are to fool the town it will have to look realistic."

Something in his tone left little room for argument, but she pulled out her wallet anyway. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to expect her total acquiescence and if this was to work, he would have to realize she wouldn't be pushed around. "While I agree our little charade must look realistic, there are certain things you must accept, Mr. Gold. If we really were on a first date, I would insist on splitting the bill fifty-fifty." 

And she put her card down next to his and crossed her arms, daring him to disagree. Later she would wince at the size of the bill and reflect that if it had been another date she probably wouldn't have been so insistent, but she had wanted to show him she could take care of herself. 

Gold raised an eyebrow, impressed once again by the woman in front of him. She could more than hold her own in conversation and she wasn't intimidated by him. He was pleased; the upcoming months would be fun. 

"Touché, Miss French. As you wish. I hope you will at least let me give you a ride home." His eyes sparked with satisfaction at having found an admirable opponent.

 She inclined her head. "If you insist."

And so they left the restaurant together and Gold dropped Belle off at the library with a promise to be in touch.

As she watched him drive away, she felt a thrill of excitement and decided for once not to overthink what she had gotten herself into. It would be a good time, if nothing more, and come August she'd be heading to England anyway.

 


	2. A Dinner Party

 

Belle was left wondering for several days when Gold would be in touch when he showed up at the library.

She was sitting at the reception desk and watched him as he came in. He walked slowly and confidently, looking for all the world like he owned the place, which, upon reflection, she realized he might. He looked so sure of himself and she was struck by the thought that it might be amusing to try to unsettle his seemingly unshakeable countenance. She smiled to herself; if he wanted the whole town to talk, she would be only too happy to oblige. And he had said they should play up being a couple...

"Hello, sweetheart! What brings you to the library?" she called in exaggerated tones, standing and moving around the front of the desk to lean against it in such way she knew accentuated her figure. 

She saw him raise an eyebrow and his mouth quirked, but admirably he didn't break character. "Why, dearie, I just wanted to stop by and see your lovely face. And to confirm that you're free tonight for Regina's little dinner party." And he continued to walk over until he stood in front of her. 

" _Sweetheart_? Really, Miss French, this is supposed to be believable," Gold hissed, softly enough that only she could hear, and it was only through a great power of will that Belle was able to refrain from laughing at the look of indignation on his face. He stood quite close, both hands on top of his cane, head tilted slightly as he studied her. Belle half-sat on the desk, conscious of his proximity and that he smelled nice, like sandalwood and cinnamon and something else, but the humor of the situation banished any awkwardness.

"Oh come now, Mr. Gold, where's your sense of fun? And remember who we're dealing with. Subtlety would be lost on them," she murmured and reached to stroke his face. He tensed at her touch and something unreadable flashed over his face before he once again was his composed, usual self. Belle smiled - for a moment she had managed to put him off balance. He hadn't been expecting the physical contact. 

Point to her. 

"Well," he said bitingly, collecting himself. "I suppose if frivolous nicknames must be part of this farce then so be it. Provided you don't give the game away, _sugarpie_." He had noted how Belle was struggling to maintain a straight face.

But that proved too much and she burst out laughing. It occurred to Gold that she had a lovely laugh and that to anyone watching them, seeing them laugh together would make it seem there really was something between them, and so he allowed himself to chuckle.

"Anyways," said Gold, trying to bring back a semblance of propriety, "Regina is having a get-together tonight. Can I pick you up at 6:30?"

"We're going to Mayor Mill's house?" said Belle, her smiling fading slightly.

"Aye, that is what I said, Miss French," said Gold, but there was amusement in his voice. "And it's 'Regina' to friends." 

Belle just nodded, unsure when she had become on first name terms with Storybrooke's fearsome mayor. 

Gold smiled thinly. "Don't worry dearie, Regina doesn't bite, at least not usually. Oh, and I have something for you." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, which he handed to her. 

She opened it to find a pair of sapphire earrings. The sapphires were set in silver and winked at her from box.

"They're beautiful, but I can't-" she started to protest.

 "You can and you will," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. "They match your eyes," he murmured, reaching out to tuck some hair behind her ear and letting his fingers drag along her jaw and she still felt his touch long after he lowered his hand. His gaze turned hot and intense and his voice dropped an octave, leaving Belle feeling curiously breathless and glad she had the desk to lean on.

Point to him.

But then the moment passed and amusement danced in his eyes at how she was the one who was off balance now. 

"I'll see you at half past six then," he said and then he turned and was gone and Belle was left wondering what had just happened.

***

Belle was thankful that she was only working the morning shift so she had plenty of time to shower and get ready for the evening.

She was grateful for the extra time as she worried about what to wear, finally settling on one of her nicer dresses and reflecting that she was going to have to upgrade her wardrobe to play her part. The mayor was a sharp dresser, as was Gold, and she wanted to look like someone he might actually date. Not that she knew what his type was or all that much about him.

She made a face in the mirror as she thought about that and what to do with her hair. Deciding to put it up because of the heat and so the earrings would be visible, she put the finishing touches on her makeup and hurried down to the library entrance to wait for Gold.

He pulled up at 6:30 exactly, and they headed to the nicer part of town where the Mayor and Gold lived. They made small talk in the car and Belle wondered how convincing they really could be as a couple, considering that the other people at the gathering presumably knew Gold. She was beginning to be anxious, before she reminded herself that Gold had more to lose than she did and if he thought her up to the task that surely counted for something. But then they were approaching the mayoral mansion and driving past it. 

"I thought I could park in my driveway and we could walk back. My house is at the end of the road, not far at all," said Gold. Belle said that sounded fine and was glad she had worn her comfortable pair of heels.

They drove to the end of the street and Gold pulled into a driveway.

"What a beautiful house," said Belle as they got out. "Although I wouldn't have expected the pink door." 

Gold made a face. "That wasn't my choice."

She looked at him curiously but he didn’t elaborate and they began to walk back down to the road to Regina’s house. 

The mayor herself opened the door at Gold’s knock. Regina raised an eyebrow at Belle and for a moment the younger woman thought the older one saw right through the charade. But then she stepped back to let them in.

“Gold, you made it after all. And Miss French. Do come in.” 

Gold stepped forward to hug her and kiss her cheek and he said, “Of course I’m here Regina. I wouldn’t miss one of your dinner parties for the world.” But there was a bite of sarcasm in his voice and Regina rolled her eyes. “And I believe you already know Miss French,” he continued.

“Indeed. How do you do, Miss French?” Regina held out a hand and Belle shook it, conscious that the other woman’s gaze was as piercing as Gold’s.

 “Thank you for having us,” said Belle, unsure how to address her, but Regina just nodded and led them into the house. 

They followed Regina down the hall, Gold's hand on the small of her back and she was acutely conscious of his touch.

 "I imagine you'll know most of the other guests," Gold murmured in her ear. "Storybrooke isn't that big."

They reached the living room and Belle did recognize most of the others. There was Dr. Whale, head surgeon at the hospital, Sheriff Swan and her husband Killian, the former looking distinctly uncomfortable at the formal setting and the latter looking amused, Robin Forrester, head of Storybrooke's fire station, and several others.

"Regina likes to do this now and again," Gold continued. "To bring together the city council and other important persons in a less formal setting. It amuses her that not everyone gets along and yet people can't very well say no to the mayor."

"Except you, apparently," said Belle, grinning at him.

"Aye," Gold conceded with a ghost of a smile.

A red-haired woman with a British accent whom Belle didn't recognize called Gold over, and he sighed. "If you'll excuse me, dearie, it appears I have some business to attend to. Get yourself a drink and some hors d'oeuvres. Regina is an excellent cook and prides herself on making sure the food at her get-togethers is beyond reproach."

And so Gold left her feeling quite out of place, but she decided to take his advice and skirted along the wall to make her way to the table with the drinks and food. Pouring herself a generous glass of wine and concurring the mayor's fine taste indeed extended to the culinary realm, she turned her attention to the food.

 "The bacon wrapped dates are really good. They're stuffed with goat cheese," said a small voice.

 "Henry!" said Belle, looking up with a smile to see the mayor's son standing in the doorway. "Here to join the party?"

"Not really, more to steal food," said the boy with a smile. "Mom doesn't mind if I hang out but she also is fine if I hide out upstairs. Usually no one really wants to talk to me."

"I can sympathize with that, said Belle, nodding and feeling a kinship with the ten-year-old. "How are you liking the 6th Harry Potter book?" Henry had stopped by the library to check it out earlier in the week during when Belle had been working.

"I just finished it earlier today! I'll be by the library on Sunday to get the next one," said Henry excitedly, his eyes bright with the excitement of one who has finished a great book, but then he added sadly, "The ending was awful though. I didn't want to believe it - Dumbledore dead and everyone thinking Snape was evil all along!"

Belle assured him she had felt the same way and they got lost in a conversation about Harry Potter, trading theories, although Belle was careful to give nothing away.

Across the room, Gold finally got rid of Zelena and looked around for his date, wondering how she was getting along. Zelena was the head of Storybrooke’s schools and had waved him over on the pretense of asking about the possible result of an upcoming city council vote, but had tried to fish for details regarding Gold’s personal life. He had enjoyed himself immensely as she grew increasingly frustrated as he deftly thwarted her attempts at information gathering.

Gold finally spotted Belle by the doorway to the kitchen, deep in conversation with Henry. He smiled as he watched them from a distance, thinking he couldn’t have chosen a better partner for this caper.

"It look like you found a good one," Regina murmured in his ear, reading his mind, and he jumped. He hadn't heard her come up behind him. She was watching Belle and Henry too and something in her face softened. The mayor's son was her soft spot, and anyone Henry approved of held an elevated position in her eyes. "But why she would agree to go out with you is beyond me.”

Gold scowled, her comment hitting a bit close to home even though they traded sarcastic barbs all the time. "I have my charms, you know."

 "Right. You're about as charming as a crocodile. You'd better go get your date, it's time for dinner."

*** 

"I guess if you go with the theory that Snape killing Dumbledore was part of a greater plan, maybe it has something to do with the ring horcrux destroying Dumbledore’s hand," Henry was saying when Gold smoothly cut in.

"Mr. Mills, if you would be so obliging, might I have my date back? It's time for dinner, my dear."

To Belle's surprise, Henry smiled at Gold and said, "Sure thing, Mr. Gold. See you on Sunday, Belle." The man was full of surprises.

Gold offered Belle his arm and with a “Shall we, Miss French?” they headed into the dining room and settled into their seats. Belle was initially nervous when she realized she was seated next to Regina, but relaxed as she found that the mayor could be quite funny, and was as sarcastic as Gold.

Gold was pleased with himself for his fake-dating plan and found himself enjoying the evening more than he would normally have. His pleasure grew when Whale made a sexist comment and Belle called him out on it, backed up by the mayor and the sheriff.

But then Zelena, likely to take revenge for his caginess earlier, leaned across the table and said in a simpering voice, “So, _Rumplestiltskin_ , do tell us how you and our lovely librarian became an item.”

Although Belle stifled a smile, along with many of the other dinner guests, she noticed how Gold’s jaw tightened, although whether it was from the nickname or the inane question she wasn’t sure, and he growled, “You know I don’t like that nickname.”

But Zelena pressed on, safely across the table from Gold’s glare. “Belle, you’ll have to ask him at some point where it comes from.” The rest of the table was watching the exchange with hidden amusement.

“Oh, I will be sure to,” said Belle, grinning and ignoring the dirty look Gold cast her way. She lightly touched his upper thigh and felt his muscles tense and his eyes flickered to where her hand was. “I imagine there’s a good story there. As to how we met, why don’t you take that one, dear?”

He hardly missed a beat, despite the location of her hand, and said, “We started talking when Miss French came into the pawn shop wondering if I could help her procure some older books on Ancient Rome for her dissertation. After I assured her I could procure those books and more, we spent the afternoon together and I asked if she would like to get dinner.”

Belle smiled and nodded, and the dinner conversation moved on. Regina asked her about her dissertation and Rome and Belle helped her clear the table and they chatted until Gold inquired if she would be ready to leave soon. They bid the mayor and remaining guests good evening, and Regina said she would have to come back at some point because she had some books on the Roman Empire that might be of interest.

 As the walked back up the street – Gold insisted on driving her home - Belle said, “That was a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” said Gold.

“So,” said Belle, grinning and nudging him. “Where does ‘Rumplestiltskin’ come from? A past relationship, perhaps, with our charming red-headed friend?” She couldn’t help it; he was fun to tease.

Gold choked. “With Zelena? Gods no. She’s insufferable. Regina actually coined the name, a while back. ”

Belle couldn’t help laughing at the disgust in his voice. By then they were back at Gold’s house and getting into his car.

“Well, go on,” she said. “What did you do, steal a baby?”

He snorted softly. “Ha. No. It’s not even a good story; she just knows it annoys me. It comes from my fondness for making deals and the fact that I can always find funds somewhere. Regina said it at a city council meeting, and it stuck, probably all the more so because I don’t care for it.”

“Hmm… Rumplestiltskin. Not the worst of nicknames. But a bit long. What about Rumple? Has anyone ever called you that?”

“Certainly not,” said Gold icily. “And I wouldn’t advise you to try.”

But Belle just smiled and filed the information away for later.

“Anyways, I would say our first outing was successful, so as for the second. I believe I promised you a peaceful place for writing. What does your schedule look like this week?” (It was a Friday.)

“I work in the mornings on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday.”

“If you would like to come over to the pawn shop on Wednesday after lunch I can drive you to my house and you can have the afternoon to yourself. Then perhaps we could go out for dinner after.”

Belle said that sounded lovely.

They pulled up to the library, and Belle said with a mischievous grin, “Thank you for a great evening, Rumple. Until Wednesday."

“Miss French, I do insist-“ he began, but she was gone. He sat a moment, bemused at what had happened, before smiling to himself and heading back to his house.

***

 Before they fell asleep, they both thought that the fictitious story Gold had told of their meeting would be a nice way to meet someone.

 


	3. A Faux Date

 

Gold had a rotten morning on Wednesday. Several loans were due that day, and two of the loan recipients had tried to ask for extensions. Gold was a reasonable man and if there was a legitimate reason behind the request, he could be understanding on occasion, but if the failure to pay rent or payback a loan on time was due to laziness or general mismanagement of finances, as tended to be the case, Gold was unyielding. He knew it fed into the reputation the town had of him as a cold bastard, but that wasn’t what bothered him.

What he found immensely frustrating was the lack of logical thinking among Storybrooke’s residents. It wasn’t that hard to balance one’s checkbook. If one took out a loan, one should be prepared to pay it back according to the agreement. And yet rational thinking and long-term planning tended to elude most denizens of the town he reluctantly called home. And then they all blamed him for not being more forgiving.

In the afternoon the shop bell pulled Gold out of the back room in time to see Belle come into the shop, struggling somewhat with a large box and the door.

“Moving in, are we, Miss French?” Gold asked, raising an eyebrow as she made her way to the counter and plopped the box down on it. His question had more of an edge than he intended, as he was still annoyed about the morning and his irritation was compounded by the fact that he was unable to place Belle. He liked being able to categorize everyone in his life, but she seemed to dance around any categorization he came up with.

“Hello, Rumple,” said Belle brightly, ignoring the glare he shot her. She couldn’t tell if he was happy to see her, but she pressed on anyways. “Not exactly. I like to have my books and notebooks around me for reference when I write. I figured you wouldn’t love the idea of me hanging up maps in your library, so I left those at home. You should see my apartment though – the walls are covered in maps of the Roman Empire.”

“I suppose one should be grateful for the small things,” said Gold and Belle hoped there was a touch of amusement in his voice. “Well, come along, and we’ll get you situated.” He regretted that he couldn’t help her with her box, but he would have to accept holding the doors for her.

They got settled in his car and Belle asked, “So, how are you?”

“Normal,” said Gold, not volunteering any more information. “And yourself?”

“Fine,” she said, and they lapsed into a silence that stretched on.

Belle snuck a glance at the man next to her. He seemed to be preoccupied, but she wasn’t sure he would appreciate her inquiring about his feelings, especially as she wasn’t sure where they stood. Friends? Sort of. Business partners? Maybe.

“Here we are,” said Gold, finally breaking the silence as he pulled into his driveway. He was glad they had arrived. Belle hadn’t said anything more, and he wasn’t sure what to say to her. 

She followed him up the drive and into the house.

“What a beautiful house!” she said, looking around as they entered.

Gold just shrugged. “The library is at the end of the hall. I put books that might be of use on the desk, and the wifi password is on a sticky note on top of the stack. In general books are organized by subject matter; books on Ancient Greece and Rome are on the bookshelf by the window. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

Belle was a bit taken aback by his abrupt manner, but nodded. “That sounds great, thank you. You’re not concerned about giving me free reign in your house though?” she asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Why should I be?” he asked, his manner not lightening. “If anything were to go missing, I could give the police a strong lead. I should be back around 6. See you then.”

And he was gone, leaving a confused Belle in his foyer. She was puzzled at his behavior– their fake-dating had been all his idea – but that slid to the back of her mind when she entered the library.

He had combined the two large rooms in the back of the first floor to create a large space. There were bay windows that offered a view of the ocean, a fireplace and squashy leather armchairs with a chess set on the side table, a fine oaken desk and matching chair, an old globe, and so many books. It was comfortable and cozy with a certain old world atmosphere, the type of library she hoped she would one day have. 

Belle put her box on the desk and stood in the middle of the room, torn between sitting down and starting to work and looking at all the books. The latter won out, and it was a while before she sat down again. She had always thought you could learn something about a person by the books on their bookshelves, and Gold was no exception.

There were the classics, with Dickens and James Joyce and Tolstoy, as well as more recent novels and bibliographies and books on current world affairs. There was more poetry than she would have expected; Yeats and T.S. Elliot seemed to be favorites. But most of all there were history books, with a focus on the ancient world – Egypt, Greece, Rome, Persia – and military history. Belle smiled as she ran her hand over the familiar books; maybe she and Gold would have plenty to talk about after all.

He also had old books and rare books, books she had only seen on the pages of the rare books catalogue that would sometimes show up in the Classics department lounge as a sort of cruel tease. It was only with reluctance that she pulled herself away from the bookshelves and sat down at the desk to get to work.

***

Gold felt guilty for his gruff behavior the moment he had left the house, and as he closed the pawnshop that evening to head back he resolved to be nicer. It wasn’t Belle’s fault that he couldn’t stand most of Storybrooke.

He let himself into his house and briefly wondered if Belle was still there, as it was quite quiet. He wouldn’t put it past her to have decided dealing with him wasn’t worth it and to have gone home. But then he heard soft strains of classical music, and followed them to the library to find Belle still there, thoroughly immersed in her work, almost barricaded in by the wall of books around her on the desk.

Gold watched her for a moment, feeling an odd stirring of emotion he couldn’t quite place, and then cleared his throat softly.

“Miss French.”

Belle jumped slightly and then looked up and smiled at him. “Oh, hello, Mr. Gold.”

He allowed himself to smile back. “Beautiful music. What is it?”

 “Sibelius’s violin concerto. It’s a favorite of mine. I love listening to classical music when I’m writing.”

“It’s lovely. Did you have a productive afternoon?”

“I did. You have a wonderful library. I’m jealous of all the books. What a fantastic collection.”

“Feel free to borrow anything that strike your fancy. And feel free to leave things here, if that would be more convenient,” he added, as she started to pack up. He was quite pleased she shared his love of books. 

“Thank you.” She put her laptop and two books into her backpack. “Perhaps I’ll leave the other notebooks and books here.”

“You are welcome to do so. And now, I believe we had talked about dinner?”

“Indeed we did. How does Granny’s sound?” 

Gold made a face. “There are better dining establishments in Storybrooke-“

“Ah, but that depends on what you’re going for,” said Belle, grinning at his look of distaste. “If it’s fine dining, than true, Granny’s is not the place, but if you want the latest rumors or to be object of said rumors, no place is better.”

Gold smiled again, but this time it was a calculating smile didn’t reach his eyes. The prospect of the horrified looks and whispers they would get and the gossip they would generate would more than up for his lousy morning. Maybe he really was the bastard everyone thought him to be but he didn’t care; he still had the best date in town, even it was only pretend.

 “You make a strong case, Miss French," he conceded with a mock bow. "Shall we? After you.”

And they headed out together; Belle glad that Gold seemed to be in a better mood than before.

As they had expected, when they entered the diner together the other conversations died down as the other diners saw who had come in. 

“A booth please, Granny,” said Belle, amid renewed whispering among the diner patrons. 

The older woman looked at them suspiciously and Belle sensed she wanted to say something, but she held her tounge.

They were shown to a booth and sat down, sitting opposite each-other.

“Hmm, Ruby doesn’t seem to be working tonight,” said Belle, looking around. “That’s too bad, the whole town would have known by tomorrow if she was.”

“From the looks we’re getting, I doubt we’ll be needing Miss Lucas,” said Gold, a certain smugness in his expression, rather like a cat with a bird. He was pleased at the effect they were having.

As they surveyed their menus, Gold reached across the table and put his hand over hers, to show that they really were on a date and not just discussing business. 

“So, dearie, do you know what you want?”

The flash of surprise in Belle’s eyes was quickly replaced with amusement. She put her other hand over his, and said, “Yes, I think I am ready. A cheeseburger and iced-tea for me.”

“Why, that’s what I was thinking too,” Gold drawled. “How sweet.”

Only with great effort did Belle refrain from laughing as Granny came over to take their order. Pulling herself together, she wanted to ask Gold about his books, but a movement by the counter caught her eye.

“If you’ll excuse me, sweetheart, I think there’s something I need to attend to. Some old friends are, ah, _in need of reassurance_.” She nodded towards the counter, a mischievous gleam in her eye, and Gold looked over in time to see Mary Margaret, one of the school teachers, and Ariel, a doctor at the hospital, quickly look away.

“Whatever you think is best, dearie,” he said. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much.”

He watched her as she made her way over to the counter and was pleased that she seemed to be enjoying herself as much as he was. Miss French certainly did seem to have an impish streak, and she seemed to have no qualms in pulling one over on old friends and acquaintances.

“Good evening, ladies,” said Belle, sliding into the seat next to Mary Margaret.

“Hey Belle,” said Ariel.

“Hi Belle,” Mary Margaret added.

There was a pause and the old friends looked at each-other and then Mary Margaret blurted out, “So what’s going on between you and Gold?”

Belle silently congratulated herself. She had thought Mary Margaret would be unable to stay quiet.

“We’re on a date. He’s helping me to get ahold of some rare books for my dissertation, and we’ve been out several times now.” And she cast what she hoped appeared to be a longing look in Gold’s direction. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow, amused by the whole situation.

Mary Margaret looked horrified and said, “But, but, he’s _Gold_. He’s cold and unpleasant and old and, and _he’s Gold_.”

Ariel looked mildly unsettled, but was able to compose herself. “Come on now, Mary Margaret, if Belle agreed to go out with him perhaps he has another side.”

“Thank you, Ariel,” said Belle, unable not to grin at the whole situation. “He’s quite charming actually. Everyone said I should find a man and settle down, and maybe I have. And there’s definitely something to be said for older man with experience.”

Ariel grinned at that. Mary Margaret continued to look perturbed but she said valiantly, “Well, if you two are happy together, I wish you all the best.”

“We should all catch up at some point,” said Ariel. “We still go to the ballroom dancing nights in Northern Cove on Tuesdays, if you’re interested in joining us at some point.”

In high school their group of friends had made it a tradition to go to Storybrooke’s larger neighbor for ballroom dancing.

“That sounds great,” said Belle. “I’ll definitely be there. I haven’t been ballroom dancing in so long.”

And she headed back to the booth where Gold was waiting for her. Belle's questions about certain history books led to a discussion of Hannibal’s military tactics and the wisdom of bringing elephants over the Alps that lasted them until their food arrived.

As they began to eat, Mary Margaret and Ariel finished their own meal and made to leave. Mary Margaret went straight to the door, but Ariel came over to say goodbye to Belle.

“Have a good night, Belle, Mr. Gold. See you on Tuesday, Belle!"

“I’m looking forward to it! See you then!” said Belle.

“Ballroom dancing in Northern Cove,” she explained in response to Gold’s questioning look. “We made a tradition of it in high school, and they’ve kept it up. I loved it, but it’s been ages. Are you much of a dancer, Mr. Gold?”

“No,” he replied regretfully. “I can’t say that I ever was, but even if I had been, my leg would make it problematic nowadays.”

“Ah, right, sorry,” said Belle, biting her lip. “But speaking of activities, I actually have a thought for our next date.”

“Go on,” said Gold with interest. No offense had been taken.

“I noticed the movie theater has been doing a summer series of old movies on Sunday afternoons. Right now they’re in the middle of a Hitchcock run, and Psycho is this Sunday’s matinee. Would you be interested in going?" 

“I would love to. I do enjoy Hitchcock’s films, and the chance to see them on the big screen is not to be missed.”

“Excellent,” said Belle, with a smile, and he felt that odd stirring of emotion again. “It’s decided.”

“Indeed. And speaking of films,” Gold continued. “As the expert on Ancient Rome, which movie do you prefer – Spartacus or Gladiator?”

Belle laughed at that. “Haha, what a question. Well, I always had a crush on Kirk Douglas, and I love the other movies he’s in, but…”

“But?” prompted Gold, raising an eyebrow at her.

“But for me the Spartacus movie falls flat. I think Maximus is a more compelling character than Kirk Douglas’s Spartacus, and therefore Gladiator has the more compelling storyline and is the better movie.”

“I think I would agree with your analysis,” Gold said. “But I would put forth that the actual story of Spartacus and his gladiator-slave revolt is more compelling than either film.”

“Oh definitely,” Belle agreed. “Especially because it’s true. That Spartacus is someone to be remembered. He and his rag-tag army outmaneuvered the Roman legions and held them off for a time. No mean feat when one considers the Roman legions are considered by many to have been the best soldiers in the ancient world." 

“And perhaps the story is all the more gripping because one knows how it ends – with 6,000 slaves crucified along the Appian Way,” added Gold. “I imagine at some level they knew they couldn’t win, that victory wasn’t in the cards, and yet they fought anyways…”

Belle and Gold continued to talk about the price man was willing to pay for freedom over the ages and were so immersed in their conversation they barely noticed the diner emptying as the hour grew late.

Finally Belle noticed the glares Granny was shooting them and they headed out into the night, Gold insisting on walking her back to the library.

“Since you don’t like Rumple, maybe you should tell me your first name,” said Belle playfully, linking her arm with his as they walked down the deserted Main Street. He stiffened at her touch, and she felt an odd pang of sadness. Was he so unused to human contact? But she kept talking. “Our charade might come to an unflattering ending if I get called out for not knowing the name of the man I’m dating.”

Gold made a noncommittal sound. “I don’t think that will happen. Only a few people here know my first name." 

“You certainly are a mysterious man, Mr. Gold.” 

“Aye, that I am. And I would prefer to keep it that way. I have a reputation to maintain. Good evening, Miss French.”

They had reached the library. Gold bid her good night, nodded, and headed back the way they had come before she could wish him good night in return. Leaving her with more questions than answers seemed to be a habit of his.

As she let herself into her apartment and got ready for bed, she thought about Gold and wondered sadly if the cold and unfeeling exterior he put up to most of Storybrook was a wall, and if something or someone long ago had hurt him badly enough that he was unwilling to let anyone in. He was a curious person; taciturn and calculating and almost cruel on the outside, but then there was the way he would flinch when she touched him. Belle decided she wanted to be his friend - he was charming and interesting and she wanted to get to know him better.

It wasn’t until later she realized he still hadn’t told her his first name.

 

 


	4. A Movie And Popcorn

Belle slept in on Thursday and woke to a number of messages on her phone, including one from Ruby and one from her father. 

Mo asked if they could talk at some point, and although he didn’t specify what about Belle was almost positive she knew. She said she would stop by Game of Thorns at lunchtime and they could talk then, and so, after picking up sandwiches and potato salad, she headed over to the shop. 

Belle had been waiting for this discussion. She felt a bit bad about it, but then remembered how Mo had been at the forefront of those who thought she should “find a nice man and settle down” and all the times he had questioned the practicality of studying history and felt vindicated. 

“Hi Dad,” she said as she entered the shop.

“Hey Belle,” said Mo, and he came around the counter to give her a hug.

They settled down in the back of the shop and made small talk as they started to eat the sandwiches, Belle waiting for Mo to bring the conversation around to what he wanted to discuss. 

Finally, looking flustered, he said, “So, Belle, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Granny called me last night and said that you seemed to be on a date with Gold.”

“We were on a date,” she said brightly. “How observant of Granny.”

“But… I … but… Gold? How?” Mo stammered, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“You always said I should seriously consider finding a nice man and settling down,” Belle reminded her father, her tone light and half-teasing. 

“I don’t know if Gold would count as a ‘nice man,’” Mo countered, wincing.

“Oh, he’s perfectly charming. And intelligent and pleasant and a wonderful conversationalist,” said Belle. 

Mo sighed. “Well, I don’t like the man-“

“Do you know him though?” Belle interrupted. “Have you ever actually had a conversation?”

“No,” Mo admitted. “But a man doesn’t get a reputation like that without some cause.”

“I think this town has a bad habit of judging people with insubstantial evidence.”

Mo decided not to push the issue and held up his hands in surrender. “I was going to say is that even if I don’t like him, I do trust your judgment, so maybe he does have another side. He’s not who I envisioned when I pictured you settling down, but-“

“Who said anything about settling down?” Belle said, more scornfully than she meant to. They had already had that conversation a number of times. “I’m still off to England in the fall.” 

“So you’re still set on that path?” 

“Yes. It’s a prestigious position.”

“I know, and I am proud of you. I just worry about you.”

“You worry about me whenever I’m not in Storybrooke.”

“That is true, but especially when you’re overseas. When you were in Egypt and Turkey for the archeology digs… and England isn’t close enough for weekend trips. You’re all I have left.”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. They had been down this road before. She hated when he tried to guilt her into staying in Storybrooke. It would never work – she knew she would be immensely unhappy if she were to stay in the town for the long term – and it just left them both feeling bad. 

“I just miss you when you’re away. Maybe if you’re a mother someday you’ll understand,” said Mo, somewhat sadly. 

“I’ll still be back to visit fairly regularly. And with modern technology, with email and Skype, the world isn’t as big as it once was,” said Belle. 

“What about Gold? He knows you’re going to be gone in the fall?”

“Of course, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime he’s the only one I can have an intelligent discussion about history with.”

“This town always was too small for you,” said Mo, regarding his daughter and thinking he never had understood her and likely never would, but he wished her all the best. 

Later, when Belle was back in her apartment trying to focus on rereading certain chapters of her dissertation, she found herself hoping that she and Gold would stay in touch after she had moved to England. Maybe they could write letters. That seemed suitable old-fashioned and yet could be a good way to stay in contact.

***

Between Wednesday and Sunday Gold went through his normal routine, but felt different for a reason he was unable to place until Saturday evening. He realized he felt lighter, less burdened, than he had in a long while. 

He sat in his living room Saturday evening, a book on his lap and a glass of scotch on the table, and pondered the new sensation. As he sipped his scotch, the word ‘apricity’ came to mind. The warmth of the sun on a winter’s day. It had indeed been winter in his world for many a year. Perhaps it was just that she smiled at him, that she seemed to enjoy spending time with him and he with her. There weren’t many other people in Storybrooke he could say as much about. 

Gold shrugged off the feelings and picked up his book. Perhaps he had made a friend.

***

Sunday afternoon found Gold headed to the library to get Belle, and then they would go together to the theater. She was waiting for him outside, wearing a sundress and seeming happier to see him than he thought anyone should be. For a moment he felt quite old next to the beautiful, buoyant young woman beside him, but as he offered her his arm and they strolled toward the theater, he decided to enjoy the moment. The sun was warm and Belle had just said something funny and there was no room for self-pity.

They got their tickets and headed into the theater. Gold excused himself to go to the bathroom and Belle went to the concession stand. When he came out, he found Belle with an enormous tub of popcorn looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

“Are you sure we have enough popcorn? I wouldn’t want us to run out,” he asked dryly as he joined her, raising an eyebrow at the large amount of popcorn. 

“Oh, this is all for me. There’s no ‘we’ in any of this,” she said, grinning unabashedly.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, returning her smile, and stealing a handful. 

Belle sighed theatrically. “I thought you might turn out to be a popcorn thief. Hence the extra large. That, and I just love buttery popcorn. The best part of the movie theater experience.” 

“Pshaw. Surely seeing the movie on the big screen is the best part of going to the cinema?” asked Gold teasingly.

And they went in to find seats, unaware of the curious glances that followed them. The others in the movie theater lobby, seeing them standing and laughing together, concluded that maybe there was something, however strange, between the librarian and the cold pawnshop owner. He certainly didn’t seem cold with her. Maybe he really could care about others.

The movie proved thoroughly enjoyable. Belle had never seen Psycho before, and grabbed Gold’s arm at all the right moments. Gold had seen the film before and didn’t pay it much attention, focusing instead on the woman next to him and enjoying the whole movie-going-with-someone-else experience. It had been a long time since he had last been to the movies. Part way through his face started to hurt, and he realized it was from smiling so much, which made him smile all the more.

Afterwards Gold suggested ice-cream and they wandered towards the ocean as they ate it. They walked to the edge of the pier, lost in light banter, and when they reached the end they stood together, their shoulders touching. 

“I’ve always loved the ocean,” said Belle. “That’s one thing Storybrooke has going for it.”

“Aye,” Gold agreed. “I never like to be too far from the sea.

They stood looking out over the water, enjoying the salt breeze and watching the seagulls wheel, and each thought their own thoughts.

Finally Belle said, “Well, I would call today a success. What next?”

"Indeed. We have definitely been getting looks," Gold murmured, his breath tickling her ear, as he shifted his stance so he was standing perpendicular to her, a self-satisfied look on his face. There were benches periodically along the pier, and with the lovely weather Storybrooke was out and about, so Belle wasn't surprised. 

But she still turned to face him, murmuring, "Oh, are we?"

But as she leaned into whisper something else in his ear, he turned to look behind them and their lips brushed. Both reacted instinctively, Gold's hand moving to her hip to pull her closer and Belle's hands moving to his chest and he deepened the kiss for a fraction of a second before consciousness caught up. As if of one mind they abruptly moved apart, Belle's cheeks flushed and Gold's eyes dark, and both regarded the other for a moment, wondering how the other would react. 

Gold cleared his throat. "Perhaps it's time we headed back?" he asked, opting to take the path of ignoring what had, or had almost, happened. 

"Yes, that might be best. I have some chapters to edit," said Belle following his lead.

And so they walked back towards the library as if nothing had happened and decided that their next faux date would be another movie the upcoming Wednesday.

But something had shifted. The strong feelings the almost-kiss had stirred stayed with the participants, even if they chose not to acknowledge them.

One wondered what he had gotten himself into. Developing feelings beyond friendship had not been part of the plan. But normally when he formulated plans, those plans were with known components. This time the plan had included a wild card. But regardless of whatever cards were involved, he wasn’t developing any feelings stronger than affection for Miss French. Certainly not. He enjoyed their time together and that was that.

The other wondered if she would be too upset if their "relationship" strayed beyond platonic. But that type of thinking wouldn’t do. Come the end of August, she would be gone. And it seemed to her that Gold was not one for a summer dalliance. If they were to go down that path, there was no telling where it would lead. But there would be no finding out, because it wasn’t going to happen. They were friends, and that was that.


	5. Shared Connections

 

Around midday Wednesday Gold headed to the library to pick up Belle. They had agreed to do something similar to what they had the previous week, where she would spend the afternoon at his house and then they would go to a dinner in the evening. Belle had even agreed they could go somewhere other than Granny’s. 

Gold had said he would swing by the library to pick her up, but at the appointed time she wasn’t outside. He waited for a few minutes, but then figured he might as well go in and tell her he was there; he could see her getting lost in research.

Parking his car, Gold went into to the building and finally found Belle near the back, on a ladder near the top shelf, so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn't hear him approach. Gold stood behind her, admiring how the tight jeans she was wearing did wonderful things for her figure, but then he mentally reproached himself and cleared his throat.

"Belle-" but he broke off in horror as she jumped at the sound of his voice, dropped the book, and in grabbing for it lost her balance.

Gold dropped his cane and lurched forward, managing to catch her, but the effort proved too much for his bad leg. He staggered and fell back, ending up on the floor with an undignified "umph" and Belle very much on top of him.

"Ooh," she said softly but made no move to get up immediately. Her hands were on his chest and their faces were very close together and he felt her hair - the bit that escaped from her bun - tickle his face. Their eyes met and blue eyes regarded gold ones and for that moment the world narrowed to that small space between them. Belle wondered what he would do if she was to lean forward just a bit and press her lips against his, on purpose this time.

But then reality sank in and she quickly scrambled off him and despite the awkwardness of the situation, Gold found himself missing her weight and warmth. His heart was beating quickly and mentally shook himself to try to collect himself. 

"I’m so sorry, thank you for catching me. I've always been clumsy. Are you alright?" Belle said quickly, kneeling next to him, a touch of color in her cheeks that Gold found adorable.

"I'll be fine. The only thing hurt is my dignity," he said ruefully as he sat up. But he quickly realized his dignity was not the only injured party as he tried to stand and put weight on his bad leg and ended up hissing in pain and grabbing at the bookshelf in support.

"Oh no," said Belle, quickly picking up his cane and handing it to him. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry-"

 "You have nothing to apologize for," he interrupted. "My leg acts up from time to time. I'm afraid we will have to reschedule."

"Reschedule going out, yes, but let me drive you home and we can still have dinner and you can keep your leg up. It's the least I can do after you caught me."

"Absolutely not,” said Gold gruffly. “There is no need for that. I don't need to be looked after."

"Come on now, Rumple. It wouldn't be to ‘look after’ you, but rather to help out. What friends do. And I owe you."

Gold looked away, his jaw clenched, uncomfortably reminded of another time and place when he had pushed away help. But then he looked back at Belle, and she was still there, smiling at him, and he relented.

As she waited for his response, she saw a hardness creep into his face as he looked away, his eyes taking on a faraway look, but it was only for a moment, and then he was looking back at her.

"Very well then, if you insist,” he grumbled. He chose to be pleased that apparently they were friends.

 Belle beamed at him. “I do so insist.”

They slowly made their way to the car, the walk clearly painful for Gold but he didn't say anything. 

Belle wanted to offer him her arm, but felt he wouldn't be happy with the gesture. Her heart clenched at his resistance to accepting help. Was it just pride, or something more? _Oh, Mr. Gold_ , she thought. _What happened in your past?_

At the car it was only with great reluctance and some muttering that he surrendered his keys.

“I can drive you know,” she said, grinning at him. “I'm not going to crash your car."

 "I'll have to take your word for it," he said with ill humor _. I just hate having to rely on anyone._

 The drive to his house passed pleasantly enough, as Belle was able to draw Gold out of his bad mood, and they were both smiling when she pulled into his driveway.

They went into the living room and Gold took off his jacket and sank onto the sofa with a sigh.

"What can I get you?" asked Belle "Water, aspirin, something stronger? And you should put your leg up."

"I'll be fine, honest. Feel free to disappear into the library to do your work. No need for us both to lose an afternoon. I have my books." He waved a hand at the side table.

"Actually..." began Belle. "If you're not busy and you're interested, would you mind reading several chapters of my dissertation? I feel there are places where the arguments could be strengthened or the prose polished. An outsider's eyes would be greatly appreciated." 

"Of course, I would be happy to do so," said Gold. He was flattered that she would ask.

"Really?" asked Belle, beaming. "When I left New York I just wanted to get away from the city and academia, but I forgot that having someone else around to pop ideas off of or for proof reading can be so valuable. And there aren't many people here who are interested, but I trust your opinion."

And she ran to his library, quickly reappearing with a stack of papers and several books.

"Here are the particularly problematic chapters," she said, handing him a couple packets of papers. "Unless you want to start from the beginning."

"Hmm," said Gold. "Perhaps I can read these now, but I would be happy to do a more extensive proofread at some point in the future if you'd like."

And so they settled in for an afternoon of reading and sketching out ideas. Gold was impressed with her writing and ideas and mastery of the subject and enjoyed learning more about Cicero and Cataline and the fall of the Republic, and Belle was pleased with his thoughtful feedback and inspired suggestions and witty commentary. Their conversation would frequently veer off on tangents, but neither was overly quick to correct the course.

As it started to get dark, Belle put down the notes she was reviewing. There were papers all over the living room table and Gold was still intently reading. Lost in Ancient Rome, he looked as if he had been able to temporarily forget the concerns of the modern world. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, the dying light caught the silver in his hair, and in the half-light his face looked softer, less careworn. Belle was reluctant to break the spell, and so she stayed quiet, studying him.

As if he felt her gaze, he looked up and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I was just thinking it might be dinner time,” said Belle quickly, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “I’m getting hungry. We could order take-out from somewhere.”

“That sounds like a good idea. What are you in the mood for?”

“Well… the pizza from Granny’s isn’t awful…” said Belle, grinning as Gold made a face.

“Must we?” asked Gold with an exaggerated sigh. “Surely there was no stipulation that that was the only place we could eat? You did say we could eat somewhere else tonight.”

“I know, but…Ruby normally works on Wednesdays, and she’s the one who does deliveries…”

“And if she were to come here and you were to open the door that would make for a good story,” Gold finished. “You make a compelling case, Miss French. I suppose my stomach can weather another meal from the dinner if it must…”

“It’s for the greater good,” Belle reminded him, managing to keep a straight face.

“Aye, I suppose it is,” he agreed gravely.

Belle had to struggle to remain collected as she made the call and gave Gold’s address.

“There we go,” she said as she hung up. “Thanks for reading over the chapters, by the way. I really do appreciate it." 

“’Tis no problem at all. I’m enjoying myself. I’ve always enjoyed history and I welcome the chance to learn some more. I never knew that Augustus was born the same year of Cataline’s conspiracy. It’s interesting that they would try to tie it all together – the corruption of Cataline and the end of the Republic with the beginning of the Emperor’s life – to try to paint Augustus taking over when the politics of the Republic collapsed.”

 “That’s one reason I love history. Truth is more interesting than fiction, and all the more engaging because it actually happened.”

They chatted about the joys of studying history until the doorbell rang.

Grinning at Gold, Belle jumped up to answer the door. She paused in the hallway to let her hair down and unbutton the top buttons of her blouse. Ruby was the teller of stories in Storybrooke, and so Belle would make sure she had a good one.

As she had hoped, it was Ruby delivering their dinner.

“Belle!” her old friend exclaimed, louder than was necessary. “So it is true!”

 “Ruby,” returned Belle, at a more normal decibel level. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“Why, you and Gold of course!” Ruby peered around Belle, trying to look into the house.

“I suppose so,” Belle demurely, with a small smile.

“Ahh! Well?” Ruby demanded. “I want details!”

“Details?” Belle raised an eyebrow.

Ruby shot her a knowing look. “So, are you two, you know, doing _it_?" 

Belle rolled her eyes at the juvenile wording. “If you’re asking if we’re sleeping together, then yes.” She didn’t think Gold could hear what they were saying from the living room, and so she had no qualms about embellishing on their “relationship.”

“Really?! You and Gold, eh? So, what’s he like?”

“Well… he’s charming and witty and smart and oh so knowledgeable about history. He’s actually a lot of fun. We’re having a grand time,” said Belle, smiling at Ruby’s frustration at her evasive answer.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, you wanted _those_ details. Well, he’s a wonderful lover. So experienced. I always thought it was rather sexy the way he stalks around town with that sneer. There’s a lot of passion behind that cold front he puts up.”

Gold had been listening with mixed amusement and horror to Belle and Ruby’s conversation, until Belle’s last answer brought him up short. She was surely just saying those things, all of those things, because she was putting on a show for Ruby. It wasn’t as if she meant any of it.

He was still trying to compose his facial expression and thoughts when Belle reappeared in the living room, color in her cheeks, and he settled with raising an eyebrow at her.

Belle thought his unasked question was about her altered appearance, and after putting the pizza on the table, she put her hair back up and rebuttoned the buttons with a somewhat bashful smile.

“Ruby’s the town gossip, so I figured we might as well try to make things seem realistic.”

Gold almost asked what image Miss Lucas was supposed to take away when Belle answered the door with her shirt half unbuttoned, but decided he didn’t want the answer and so instead said, “I trust you painted her a good picture.”

“I think so,” said Belle, blushing slightly but still unaware he had overheard.

Their conversation moved onto other subjects as they ate and afterwards, despite Gold’s protestations Belle cleared away the dishes and washed them.

“I suppose I should get going,” she said, returning to stand in the arched doorway that led to the living room.

 “Are you sure?” asked Gold, standing up and ignoring her disapproving look. “Walking at night? I do have a guest bedroom and you are more than welcome to stay.”

As he spoke he walked (limped) over to stand by her, one hand on the doorway to steady himself. For a moment they stood, each regarding the other, and both wondered if they saw something more in the other’s eyes. 

But then Belle shook her head, breaking eye contact. “I have to open the library tomorrow, and I would rather make the walk tonight than in the morning. It’s not that far, and I imagine it will be pleasant now that it’s cooled off a bit. You should be sitting down though. You’re not going to work tomorrow, aren’t you?” She shot him a stern look.

“I can at least walk you to the door,” said Gold, shrugging off her concern. “And I guess the shop can stay closed; I suppose Storybrooke can manage.”

“In that case,” said Belle, hesitating for just a second and biting her lip. “If it wouldn’t be a bother, I could stop by in the afternoon and we can pick up where we left off with the revisions, and I could cook dinner. I think I owe you for all the meals from the diner I’ve forced on you.”

“That sounds like a lovely way to pass an afternoon,” said Gold softly. “I daresay a homemade meal would be nice.”

By then they were standing at the door and before she could change her mind, Belle quickly bade Gold good night and headed down the path and back towards the library.

 Gold watched her disappear into the darkness and felt a pang of loss. He told himself it was just because it had been a nice change to have someone else in the house to talk to, not because of the moments of closeness.

But as he turned off the light that night and got into bed, the image of Belle entering the living room – hair down, color in her cheeks, the hint of a lacy bra showing – came unbidden into his head, along with a surge of emotions, longing among them. He groaned in frustration as he flopped onto his pillows.

It was no use trying to hide it from himself anymore; he had developed feelings stronger than friendship for Miss French. But even if he could admit it to himself, he also knew he wouldn’t act on them. He wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship they had built. She was young and beautiful and likely not at all interested in him like that. And anyways, she was leaving at the end of the summer, on to bigger and better things than Storybrooke.

While the smarter thing to do might be to try to distance himself from her, to not be so involved, he didn’t think he could bring himself to do that. Rather, he would focus on enjoying the little time they had together.

At least he would have lovely memories when she was gone.

*** 

On Thursday afternoon Belle stopped at the supermarket to pick up ingredients for dinner before she returned to Gold’s house. She tried to tell herself she was just happy to have found someone who could help her with the revisions, but she couldn’t deny that what she had told Ruby was true. She was having a grand time, and hoped Gold was enjoying himself as well.

Gold opened the door and warmly ushered her in. “Good afternoon, Miss French. Do come in.”

He was wearing a vest and tie, but his shirtsleeves were rolled up and he had forgone a jacket, and Belle wondered if this was the least formal she had seen him. 

“Hello Rumple. You could call me Belle, you know,” said Belle as she entered the house. As she walked past him she had the urge to ruffle his hair, just because she thought it might annoy him, but she refrained.

“I suppose I could,” said Gold, making a face but not agreeing to anything. 

“Oh, you and your old world manners,” said Belle, grinning and nudging him. “How is your leg?”

“Better. A nights sleep and staying off it has done a lot of good.” 

Belle dropped off the groceries in the kitchen and they went together into the living room for another afternoon of reading and revisions and generally enjoying the other’s company.

When dinnertime arrived they moved into the kitchen, Belle insisting on Gold sitting while she started to prepare dinner. They would have chicken parmesan and garlic bread and a nice salad. Gold insisted on contributing a bottle of wine, which they opened as dinner preparations got under way.

As he watched Belle move around the kitchen, Gold cleared his throat and brought up something that had been on his mind. "So, the 4th of July is next week. I suppose you’ll want to celebrate with friends.”

Belle turned to look at him. Was that a flash of disappointment in her eyes? Surely not.

"I told you, I don't really have friends here anymore. We've grown apart. But if you want to do something separate for Independence Day, that's fine. We never said we had to do everything together."

"I... No, I don't have any plans. I just thought that you might. Erm, would you like to do something together, then?" he finished rather awkwardly.

"I suppose so, but only because I haven't gotten any better offers." The sparkle in her eye told him she was teasing.

"So I'm only your choice if all other options are exhausted?" he asked, teasing her back.

"That's about the size of it, yes," said Belle, grinning at him.

He returned her smile. "Well then, I shall do my best not to be put out. What shall we do then? Every year they let off fireworks over the marina."

 "Watching the fireworks might be nice, but everyone will be downtown. I don’t much like crowds.” 

“Me neither.”

“From your backyard one can see the ocean... Do you think one could see the fireworks too?"

 "I imagine so," said Gold, wondering where her train of thought was going.

"What if we were to have a picnic in your backyard?"

 Gold said that sounded like a grand plan, and both forgot (or pretended to forget) that the initial purpose of them spending time together was for it to be a public spectacle as Belle continued to make dinner.

They enjoyed dinner and stayed at the table chatting until Belle said it was time for her to leave. Gold again offered his guest room, but she again had to open the library the next day, and so reluctantly declined.

“It’s quite a nice walk, actually,” she said, as he walked her to the door. 

“If you say so,” said Gold. “Would… would you like to catch the Hitchcock film on Sunday? I believe _Rear Window_ is playing.” He asked tentatively, thinking how he so enjoyed her company but not wanting to appear overeager to monopolize her time, and was gratified when she eagerly agreed.

“I would like that, very much,” she said quickly, with a lovely smile. “Until then. Good night, Rumple.”

“Good night, Belle.”

 As she walked back to the library, Belle tried not to think how disappointed she would have been if Gold had wanted to celebrate the 4th of July separately. Surely it was just because she had counted on that, because if they were going to pretend to be dating it had to be realistic, and it would be unrealistic to spend the holiday apart. Surely it wasn’t for any other reason.

Surely it wasn’t because she was quickly coming to prefer his company to anyone else in Storybrooke or that she had stopped looking forward to the end of August. She would be excited to defend her dissertation, and was looking forward to moving to England and starting her life there, but there was no need for the weeks to rush by.

 


	6. Independence Day

 

Belle and Gold passed an enjoyable Sunday at the movie theater for the Hitchcock matinee. Because of a summer thunderstorm, they opted for hot chocolate at the bakery rather than ice-cream, and there was no repeat of what had almost happened the previous week. They did stay until closing time, and only then reluctantly parted after agreeing what each would bring to their picnic later that week.

The Fourth of July was on a Wednesday, and on the Monday and Tuesday before Belle tried to focus on editing her thesis, but her mind kept wandering. She tried to busy herself in a book, but the mention of Emperor Hadrian and Hadrian’s wall was too close geographically to the man she was trying not think about, so she put down her books and decided to take a break by getting caught up with Downton Abbey. But she got two episodes in and part way through the season finale before she realized that said series finale featured Christmas in the Highlands. 

Sighing, Belle put down her computer and decided to go for a run. She didn’t want to think about Gold at all, because then her mind would dwell on the sun catching the silver in his hair, how happy she had been when he complimented her writing, how he pronounced certain words, the depth of emotion in his eyes, the feel of his lips… She would dwell on the conversations they had had and on where things might go if they spent much more time together. Belle had always made her choices rationally, based on what was best for her academic career and her studies, at the expense of romantic relationships if need be, and it scared her that when she was with Gold, she was no longer so sure of herself.

Running proved successful in getting Gold out of her head, although she ran too far and was limping as she went to the store Tuesday. She didn’t mind though, as long as she could think about other thing, and as she picked up the ingredients for the apple pie she planned to bring to the picnic she determinedly kept her mind elsewhere. They had agreed that she would bring dessert and Gold would provide the wine and cheese and other cold cuts.

Wednesday had Gold glancing at the clock as 5 ‘o clock, their agreed upon meeting time, came and went. It was a quarter, and then a half past, and he fought back increasing anxiety. What was keeping her? Should he call? Had she changed her mind about spending time together? Not knowing what was holding her up, and not wanting to seem overbearing didn’t improve his mood. Finally at three quarters past the doorbell rang and Gold hurried to open the door, fighting to keep the relief from showing.

“Hey,” he said softly as he opened the door and smiled at her. “You made it.”

“Hey,” she said, returning his greeting and smile. “Of course I did.”

For a moment they just stood and smiled at each other and the anxieties of the past days vanished.

Then Gold remembered his manners and cleared his throat and said, “Do come in.”

“I’m sorry I’m so late and I didn’t call,” she said as she entered. “I got caught up in reading about a new discovery in England that might be Boadicea’s tomb and lost track of the time and then I rushed out of my apartment without realizing my phone was dead and by then I was so late that I just figured I should head over.”

“’Tis no matter,” replied Gold, unable to stop smiling. _What matters is you’re here now_. That she got so engrossed in her work made her all the more endearing. “I suppose we can go to the kitchen to get the picnic supplies. You could charge your phone there. And Boadicea… she’s the one who led the revolt against the Romans, isn’t she?”

“Yes, that’s her,” said Belle as they headed toward the back of the house. ”No one’s sure where she’s buried, but it seems they might be onto something now.”

“Aye, and didn’t someone once propose that the Stonehenge was both tomb and tribute to the rebel leader?”

They continued to talk as Gold got out the cheeses and prosciutto and wine and they went outside and surveyed the yard. There was a patio, complete with patio table and chairs, and then a stretch of grass. The rest was rather overgrown. At one point it had been well maintained, but time and a lack of caring on Gold's part had allowed it to grow wild.

"I'm afraid the grass is soaked from the recent showers," said Gold apologetically. "And although I have what could pass for a picnic blanket, it's not waterproof." 

"That's alright," said Belle, putting the pie down on the table. "We can sit here for eating, and watch the fireworks sitting on the swinging chair."

She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world and Gold didn't trust himself to answer and so he just uncorked the wine and helped to set things out on the table. There was a swinging chair, where the patio stones met the grass, but he didn't allow himself to think where such an intimate setting might lead.

They had a pleasant dinner and as it began to get dark they brought the dishes and leftovers back inside and went back out to sit together on the swinging chair.

They sat talking as darkness fell. One of Belle's hands was on the seat between them and without thinking Gold reached to put his hand over hers.

He felt her tense and look at him and he pulled his hand away, hastily saying, "I'm sorry, I guess I've gotten used to the pretending-"

But she caught his hand and squeezed it and so they sat with their clasped hands between them.

As the fireworks began Belle scooted closer and put her head on Gold's shoulder. He was glad for the darkness so no one could see how big his smile was.

When the finale had ended, Belle said, "Well, that was a good show."

"They always manage to do a decent job. The Mayor makes sure of it."

"I always seem to end up in Storybrooke, watching those fireworks, every 4th of July," said Belle softly. "I always wanted to get away, and yet, during college and now, I'm back."

"But you'll be off again soon," said Gold, trying to be encouraging even though that meant encouraging her to leave Storybrooke. It hurt deeply to admit it, but her place was not in the little town. _Unless_ , a little voice whispered, _it was with him_. "You've forged an impressive path so far and I doubt it will end here."

Belle looked at him, but his expression was hidden in the darkness. She wished there was some light, so she could have a hint as to what he was thinking. "I appreciate your faith," she said quietly, wanting more than ever to know how he felt about the fact that she probably wouldn't be back in Storybrooke again for any long amount of time. "You've always been so encouraging." She left unsaid that he was one of the few who had been.

"I've read your thesis," he said, hoping to keep things light. "Anyone who does would be confident you will go on to make a name for yourself in the Classics field. I don't think Storybrooke will see much of you, unless it's to read about your latest book or your newest discovery." And he squeezed her hand, grateful again for the darkness so no one would see the pain that flashed across his face when she gave an answering squeeze.

She laughed softly and said, "Thank you for your kind words. And not to be disloyal to Rome, but I always thought it would be so neat to be part of one of the underwater archeological expeditions to Alexandria..."

Their conversation moved away from Belle's future (or lack there of) in Storybrooke and onto other things. The sat close, hands still together, neither wanting the evening to end. Both thought how the setting seemed to invite their relationship to move beyond platonic, but both were hesitant, not wanting to ruin what had been a lovely evening or what they had between then.

As it got quite late it got cold, and when Belle shivered Gold reluctantly suggested it might be time to go inside.

Belle yawned and said, "I guess so. Goodness, look at the time. I didn't realize it was so late."

She paused for a moment, and then said hesitantly, almost shyly, "If the offer of a guest room is still open, I might take you up on it this time."

"Of course," said Gold carefully, not wanting his voice to give anything away. "You're more than welcome to stay."

"Thanks. The library is closed tomorrow so I don't need to rush back."

"Ah, good. I think the pawnshop will be closed tomorrow too. Well, the guest room is upstairs."

And so they walked slowly upstairs in the dark house, each wondering what the other was thinking and wondering if the other would dare to make the first move.

"Here we are," said Gold as they stepped onto the landing. He pushed open the first door and flicked on the light, then stepped back so she could enter.

"The bathroom is across the hall," he continued. "Erm... I'll get you a towel then, and you can borrow a pair of pajamas."

"That sounds good," said Belle, smiling at the idea of borrowing PJs.

Gold smiled a small smile in response, and left. Belle used the time to look around the room. It was similar to the rest of his house - dark wood and elegance, classy yet comfortable.

He announced his return with a knock and she met him in the doorway.

"Here you go," he said, handing her a pair of black silk pajamas and a fluffy towel.

"Silk pajamas? How luxurious," said Belle teasingly. "And yet I'm not surprised."

"I like being comfortable," replied Gold, trying to sound indignant but his smile gave him away. "I trust you will be."

"I'm sure I will. Thank you," said Belle softly, and there was a pause in which neither of them wanted to part and yet neither were willing to take the next step.

"Well, good night Belle," Gold said finally.

"Good night, Rumple," said Belle and she watched him walk back down the hall, emotion rising in her chest, wondering if she dared call him back and what he would do if she did.

When he reached the door to the master bedroom at the end of the hall, Gold turned to look back, and their eyes caught. Her cheeks colored slightly but she held his gaze, her eyes mirroring the intensity in his own.

"Belle?" Gold asked slowly, his voice low. "Do you need anything?"

She hesitated for a moment in answering and he took a step back down the hall towards her before she said, "No, no. See you tomorrow."

She retreated into the room and shut the door, leaning against it. Her heart was beating too fast as she thought about what she had been sorely tempted to do.

But as she changed and got into bed, she didn't overly regret not seeing might have happened. She would be happy for their wonderful evening. More than anything, she didn’t want to spoil what they had, but there was still time. The bed and pajamas were very comfortable and she was tired, so she didn't think about anything for too long, but as she drifted off to sleep she thought how she would like for things to move beyond friendship.

Gold watched her go back into her room and close the door and took a deep breath before going into his room. He so wanted to knock on her door, but... But he wouldn't. Because he had never been very good at being brave, and because he couldn’t bear he thought of loosing her as a friend if she didn’t feel similarly.

***

Belle slept later than she had meant to and so it was late morning when she sleepily sat up. She pulled on her dress from the night before, washed her face and pulled her hair into a messy bun before wandering downstairs.

She wasn't quite sure how to act around Gold after the previous night and her thoughts just before falling asleep, but she had settled on acting as if nothing had changed when she saw his note on the kitchen table.

_Belle,_

_A small emergency has called me away (everything is fine, but it demands my time). I am unsure when I will be back. Please feel free to stay as long as you would like, and please take the leftover apple pie._

_Rumple_

Belle felt a pang of sadness that she wouldn't see him - she had been looking forward to spending the day, or at least the morning, together - but she smiled at how he signed the note. Deciding that if he wasn't around, she might as well head back to her apartment, she left a note of her own and headed back.

***

Gold returned late that afternoon to an empty house.

Henry had broken his wrist, and Gold had woken to a call from Regina. He had spent his day with the Mills, alternately entertaining Henry, enjoying Regina's cooking, and trying to reassure her that what had happened was in no reflection on her as a mother and that such things happened to rambunctious children and it was part of growing up. The Mills were some of his only friends in Storybrooke, and so he had felt honor-bound to go at Regina's call.

If he was being completely honest with himself, the cowardly part of him was glad to have an excuse not to see Belle. He supposed they would go on as if nothing happened, and indeed nothing had, but it had seemed as if something might have, it had seemed as if she might just feel similarly about him as he did about her. But could it be? He shrugged mentally. They would see what the future held.

Gold found a note from Belle next to the one he had left.

_Rumple,_

_I hope everything is alright. Thank you for a lovely evening. I really do appreciate your encouragement. I'm not taking the pie though; you'll have to figure out what to do with it yourself. See you next week - this weekend I'm off to NY for a friend's birthday, I think I told you._

_See you soon, Belle_  

Gold smiled at her note and helped himself to a piece of pie.

At least, if nothing else, he would always have the memories of their summer together. But, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to be more than friends.

 


	7. Unrequited Feelings

 

The Friday after the 4th of July Belle took the train down to New York. It was her friend Elsa's birthday that Saturday. Elsa was one her closest friends from university, and so Belle wasn't going to miss the special day. 

The two friends had dinner and drinks at one of their favorite restaurants Friday night and stayed late into the night, chatting and catching up. Finally they got up to leave and were on their way out when the door opened and in walked Will.

Belle's heart sank as she caught sight of him. She hadn't seen to him since she had ended things and she had no desire to do so now. She was hoping they could slip out unnoticed when he looked around. 

"Belle?" she heard him say.

"You don't have to talk to him," Elsa murmured in her ear. "We can just keep going. You don’t owe him anything."

"No. I wouldn't want him to think I'm embarrassed to face him. I didn't do anything wrong," she whispered back.

She was fairly certain she had come to terms with her anger and other feelings toward him, but she couldn’t be sure what seeing him face to face would be like. But she had never been someone who ran away from challenges, and so she took a deep breath and turned around.

"Will," she said coolly. He looked as he always had - handsome, well-dressed, dark hair pushed back. The only thing out of place was the sad, pained look on his face; normally he radiated a boyish good charm and mischievousness.

"I didn't except to run into you," he said.

"Nor I you," she returned.

"I'm glad we did though. Could we talk? There are some things I want to say but you never picked up your phone."

Belle hesitated, but he looked so earnest that she reluctantly agreed. "I suppose so." 

Turning to Elsa, she said, "I'll meet you back at your apartment."

"Are you sure?" Elsa asked, looking with concern at her friend, and remembering how it had gone when Belle had broken up with him.

"Yes,” she said, feeling reckless and deciding to throw caution into the winds. “Maybe he’ll even apologize, and if he says anything too stupid I'll throw my drink in his face and leave. Go on, I'll be fine."

She watched Elsa leave and then slowly turned to face Will. They surveyed each-other silently for a moment and then he said softly, “Shall we sit down?”

Belle nodded and followed him to a table.

“I’ll go get drinks. Is it still cider for you?” And when she nodded again he went to the bar. 

As she waited for his return, Belle wondered what she was doing. What did she hope would happen? She would hear out whatever he wanted to say and maybe it would be nice to get closure. They had been together for two years and she had thought they would be together for much longer, before she caught him cheating on her.

They had seemed perfect together on paper – both were intellectual and studying the classics (Will was finishing up his PhD dissertation on Alexander the Great) and stylish and loved traveling and fine dining – but as Belle harshly learned, life isn’t lived on paper.

Will returned with a cider and a beer and sat down across from her. Belle stayed silent; she would let him say what he wanted to say and wouldn’t make it easy for him.

 For a minute he studied the table, unwilling or unable to meet her eye, and then he finally said, “So. You look great. As always.”

Belle raised an eyebrow at him. “Surely that’s not all you wanted to say.”

“No. I… I owe you a huge apology. Belle, I’m so sorry for everything,” he said brokenly, and Belle was inclined to believe him. “I… you know how stressful finishing up a dissertation is and we were both so busy and-“

“Wait just a minute,” snapped Belle with a flare of anger. “Are you putting your infidelity on me? That’s bullshit. I always made time for you. You were never there for me, probably because you were sleeping with half the classics department. If you wanted to talk to make excuses for your behavior and to try to say we share the blame, I’m leaving. I thought this conversation was going to be different than our last one.” 

She stood up to leave and he stood up as well and said quickly, “Wait! Please Belle, don’t go. I’m sorry. You’re right, of course. You were always right.”

And because she had loved him, once upon a time, she sat down again, willing to hear him out at least.

“You’re right,” he continued. He too a deep breath. “There is no excuse for how I acted. I ruined what we had. I was an idiot, the worst type of idiot, and I lost you. But I miss you, Belle. I miss what we had. We had something special, didn’t we?”

Belle was surprised at his admission and his humility. He had always been proud, and the conversation she confronted him about the cheating had gone very differently than the current one. She wondered if he meant it.

“We did have something special,” she said carefully. “But that’s over now. You destroyed it and you destroyed the trust that’s necessary for something like that to work in the long-term.”

Will winced at her words. “And I’ll always regret that. Remember how we would stay up all night writing together before the deadlines and then after submitting the chapters we would get bagels at some obscenely early hour and sit on our bench and talk about our future while the city slept?”

It was Belle’s turn to look away. “Of course I remember. But that’s in the past now. That future is gone.”

Will sighed. “I guess it is. It’s something I’ll always regret.”

 “It doesn’t do to dwell on what might have been.”

“You always were a smart one,” said Will with the smile that was so familiar. “So, how are you? How’s the writing going?” 

And because, the anger and pain hadn’t quite killed the fondness for him deep down, and because it was unlikely she would run into him again, she stayed and they got to talking.

Belle told him about her progress with her dissertation and asked how his writing was going and what his future plans were. She learned he was in also in the editing phase and that he would be staying on at Columbia after his defense.

And they talked of other things, of the subject matter that had brought them together. As they talked, Belle couldn’t help but compare talking with Will with talking with Gold and noted the differences, small differences that hadn’t bothered her when they were dating but that now she suspected would have slowly started to irritate her in the long term. Will talked at her, as if he were teaching her about the subject matter, whereas Gold didn’t act as if he knew more than she did.

And Will, as a scholar focused on ancient Greece, harbored a bias towards his subject matter. He would subtly insinuate that the Romans were the thuggish younger sibling of classical Greece, committed to engineering, military efficiency and absolutism, whereas the Greeks preferred intellectual inquiry, theater, and democracy, a viewpoint Belle found frustrating and immature coming from someone who was supposed to be dedicated to the study of the ancient world in its entirety and thus should be better versed than that.    

But despite that, she was surprised to realize that she was enjoying their conversation, and as she listened with half an ear to what he was saying, she examined her own feelings. She remembered what she had seen in him, but she also saw how she herself had changed, and she was pleased to realize that she lacked any residual romantic feelings for him. As she laughed at something she said, she decided this was as good a way to get closure as anything: one final talk about a subject they both loved and then to leave things on good terms.

During a lull in conversation, he reached out and put his hand on hers.

 “What are you doing?” she asked softly.

“I’ve missed you so much. We were so great together. What about one final hurrah, one final chapter to our story?” he asked, his voice low, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. 

Their eyes met and there was an intensity in his and for a moment Belle was tempted; they had had such good chemistry together. But then she shook her head and pulled her hand away.

“Everyone has a story, but ours is history. I should get going. Goodbye Will,” she said quietly and got up to leave. Then, turning back for one final word, she said, “And, for the record, Alexander the Great would have gotten his ass kicked if he had tried to march against Rome and her legions.”

And with that parting blow she left before he could respond, satisfied with herself and with how the evening had ended. Elsa’s apartment was just a block away but she circled around several times, trying to organize her thoughts.

Belle was glad she had gotten an apology from Will and that he had seemed to mean it and that that chapter did seem to finally be closed. She thought about him reaching for her hand and shook her head. Typical Will, to think that the world marched to his drum, but that’s not how she wanted to leave things. She smiled as she thought about the other man who had recently held her hand, and how if he wanted to kiss her, that would be another matter entirely.

She realized she was looking forward to returning to Storybrooke (not something she would ever have imagined herself thinking) and to Gold. She would be bold and try to take things to the next step. She knew she wanted it, and she wanted him, and it certainly seemed like he did as well. Maybe theirs would be a passionate affair, fated only to last for the summer and then burn out, or maybe they could create something that would last. The least they could do was try.

But even if it wasn’t meant to be, she still looked forward to what the future held. Gold had reminded her that she didn’t have to get used to being talked at. There were those out there who would treat her as an equal and she didn’t have to settle for less. And going forward, she wouldn’t.

***

Gold had had a different sort of weekend and had come to some different conclusions. He hadn't thought much of it when Belle had said she would be away for the weekend. Visiting for a birthday was a perfectly normal thing to do and he wouldn't have expected Belle to stay in Storybrooke for the entire summer. 

But as the weekend passed, several times he found himself thinking of Belle, having thought of something she might find amusing or interesting that he wanted to share with her before remembering she wasn't in Storybrooke. 

The first few times he felt a sense of loss and missed her presence and was surprised at himself. But Sunday night, as he sat in his living room trying to read the newspaper, the sadness turned to anger and he threw down the paper in frustration.

There was anger at himself, for starting the whole charade and for getting in too deep. How had he allowed things to go so far? He had known she would be leaving; she had made no secret of it, and yet somehow…

Gold poured himself a glass of scotch and drank it too quickly, relishing the burn. He poured himself another glass and thought about how there was a reason he had put up the walls long ago. If he didn’t let the outside world in, he couldn’t get hurt. He refused to think about how putting up walls in anger to try to bury pain only trapped the pain inside.

He thought how he would have to get used to Belle's absence and he might as well start then. He would have to distance himself from her, to back away from the intimate friendship they had created. A part of him whispered that it would be best to cut things off completely, to show her that he really was the monster the town thought him to be, but he knew he couldn't bring himself to do that. All too soon diverging paths would separate them for good; he would not hasten that separation. But things couldn’t continue as they had been either.

 

 


	8. Breaking Point

Belle arrived back in Storybrooke Monday evening and was surprised to find a package outside her door. She hadn’t ordered anything, but she carried it inside, curious to find out what it was and who had sent it. 

Opening the box, she found a dress but no note. She pulled it out and found it to be made of a satiny material that flowed over her hands and was of a beautiful deep purple color. It was undoubtedly quite expensive and nicer than any dress in her closet. For a moment she wondered who could have sent it, and then she figured it must have been Gold. She would duck over to the pawnshop the next day and see if her guess was correct.

In the mean time though, Belle was sorely tempted to try it on, and in the end she gave into temptation, telling herself she might as well see if it fit. So she headed to her bedroom to change. She pulled on the dress and stifled a gasp as she caught sight of her reflection.

The dress fit perfectly. It was tight-fitting and low-cut and sexy, but retained a classiness. Belle marveled at her reflection and at Gold’s fashion aplomb. But as she lingered in front of the mirror, the thought crept into her head of whether or not she could accept such a present. 

In the end, as she reluctantly took the dress off to get ready for bed, she decided she would. She told herself she had already accepted earrings from him, Gold wasn’t the type of man who would expect anything more from her just because he gave her expensive presents, and she just really wanted to keep the dress. And he would likely refuse to take the dress back anyway. It wouldn’t do to let such a nice dress go to waste.

***

Gold hadn’t been able to decide on a plan of action for how to act around Belle and so he was caught off guard when she walked into the pawnshop on Tuesday. 

“Hello Rumple!” said Belle brightly, and Gold found himself smiling back at her before he could stop himself. 

“Good morning, Miss French,” he said, noting sadly the question that flashed across her face at his use of ‘Miss French.’ “How was New York?”

“It was good. It was nice to see some university friends and catch up. How have you been?”

“Nothing terribly exciting has happened here. It is Storybrooke, after all.”

Belle nodded, and then asked, “So… did you send me a dress?”

Gold mentally kicked himself. He had ordered it before his decision to back away, and had forgotten he had done so in his moping over the weekend. “I did,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “I hope it fits?”

“Oh it does,” said Belle, beaming. “Thank you so much, it’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I do, very much. It was a very generous present. So, what are you up to this week? Would you want to grab dinner at some point?”

“I’m afraid I’m not free this week,” replied Gold, even though his schedule was empty. The disappointment in her eyes made him desperately want to reconsider. “But Regina is having another dinner party on Friday, so if you would care to join me for that…”

“I would love to,” said Belle quickly. “I’ll wear the new dress.”

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 6:30. I’ll see you then.”

“I… ok,” said Belle, seeming taken aback at his abrupt ending of their conversation. “Is anything wrong?”

“Everything is fine,” said Gold shortly. “Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just busy.”

“Very well then,” said Belle, looking as if she didn’t quite believe him. “Take care. See you Friday. And thank you again for the dress.” And with one last searching look she turned to go.

Gold watched her leave, wanting to call her back, but he held his tongue. He insisted it was for the best, but he couldn’t quite convince himself of that.

As the week passed, he grew irritable, frustrated with himself and with the situation. His mood wasn’t helped by the heat wave that struck Storybrooke. The temperature soared and it was hot and humid and his temper frayed. Gold hated the hot weather and he thought longingly of the cold Scottish winters he had known as a boy. 

***

For the rest of the week Belle wondered if everything was alright with Gold. Something had seemed off, and she had hoped they were at the point in their friendship (or whatever it was between them) where he would tell her what was on his mind, but apparently they weren’t. 

She worried if she had read too much into things, but then she would remind herself of the dress and how he would look at her and the conversations they had had and she told herself the feelings weren’t just one-sided. And so, as Friday evening approached, she took extra time getting ready, telling herself that this would be the night. 

Belle was ready before 6:30 and impatiently watched the clock. She was looking forward to seeing Gold and realized she had missed him. It would be good to catch up and maybe she could get him to invite her over for an after-dinner-party glass of wine and they could see where things went from there…

Gold arrived promptly and she eagerly got into the car. But she quickly saw that whatever had been bothering him earlier in the week was still on his mind, as his answers to her inquiries were terse and he didn’t comment on the dress. She felt her confidence wavering but told herself to see how the evening went.

She wouldn’t have guessed that it was her, or their relationship, that was causing Gold so much grief. He still hadn’t figured out how to act around her; when he was alone it was easy to tell himself to act distantly, but that was much easier in theory than in practice. As they drove to Regina’s, he could tell she knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to bring up the subject. 

As they had the previous time, Gold parked in his driveway and they walked down the street to the Mayoral mansion. They walked in silence, Belle deciding there was a limit to how many times she could ask if everything was ok, and Gold realizing that trying to have a normal conversation was proving more difficult than he had expected. When Regina ushered them warmly inside, complimenting Belle on the dress and insisting that she call her ‘Regina’ and not ‘Mayor Mills,’ and Belle was struck with an idea.

Gold was in a strange mood, and Belle wasn’t sure how well they would pull off being a couple if he would hardly talk to her, and so she asked Regina if she might see the books the Mayor had mentioned at the last dinner party. Her aim was to separate herself from Gold, but that fell flat when Regina agreed and said, “Gold, you know where the study is. Would you show Belle?” and Gold graciously agreed.

They set off together down a hallway, Belle half a step behind Gold. When they reached the study, Gold opened the door and stepped back to let her enter first.

“Here we are. I believe the history books are by the window,” said Gold, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. 

Belle paused in the middle of the room to look around. The room was what she would have expected of the Mayor, dark wood and lots of books. There was an impressive desk of dark wood, a comfortable looking leather chair, and other dark wood furniture. 

She started to walk over to the window, but stopped by the desk and turned to look back at Gold. He was still standing by the door, watching her, and there was a look on his face that she dared to think meant what she hoped it did. 

So she half-sat on the desk, making sure that the dress slid up just so, and said to him, “You never told me what you thought of the dress.” The teasing note that had earlier underlined their flirting was gone, replaced by something else. Her eyes met his in what could have been a challenge. 

As their eyes met, the air between them felt charged and Gold felt his chest tighten. Did she know the effect she had on him? He slowly walked towards her, his eyes never leaving her face. Even though his heart was beating quickly, his voice when he spoke was steady.

“Didn’t I? It’s quite flattering. You look wonderful.”

Gold’s voice was low, and Belle’s breath caught as he walked to stand right in front of her and murmured the last sentence in her ear. 

“Why, thank you,” she murmured, fighting to keep her voice calm, her head cocked as she studied his face. He stood very close, both hands on top of his cane, his gaze intense as he met her eyes. “You get some credit because you were the one who picked it out.” 

“But you’re the one who can pull it off,” he returned, a roughness to his voice that sent delightful tingles down her spine. “So the credit is all yours. And you don’t need my help to look beautiful.”

“You’re too kind.” And deciding that they had already crossed a line somewhere and she didn’t want to go back, she reached to run her hand through his hair. It was something she had wanted to do for a while and she noted how he shivered slightly and how his eyes darkened. 

Her touch was what undid him. That, and the look in her eyes that seemed to mirror his own feelings. 

And so Gold kissed her, pressing his lips hard against hers, one hand cupped around the back of her neck. 

It took a long moment for him to come to his senses and pull back, his heart beating fast.

“Belle, I-“ he started to say, but then she grabbed his jacket and pulled him close and returned the kiss.

Gold had half a mind to stop whatever was happening, but then Belle nipped at his lower lip and deepened the kiss and so he leaned his cane against the desk and moved his hand to her waist to pull her closer. Her arms slipped around his neck, one hand playing with his hair.

He brushed his fingers over the top of her knee, letting his thumb rub against her inner leg. He slowly moved his hand up, the small noise she made encouraging him to continue, and his fingers slipped under the dress 

They were lost in the kisses, in the outpouring of pent-up emotion and passion, when a noise outside the study brought them back to themselves and they remembered where they were.

Gold moved back, straightening his tie, and Belle slid off the desk, straightening her dress. Both were breathing raggedly.

“Perhaps it might be best if we were to leave?” Gold asked, his voice still hoarse. He wasn’t sure where the evening was going but sitting through dinner acting as if nothing had changed between them wasn’t an option.

Belle nodded, her cheeks flushed. She felt similarly and she grinned as she struck upon an idea. “Yes. Perhaps we should. Maybe I was struck with an awful headache?”

A smile flitted across Gold’s face. “That sounds like a good story.”

Belle stepped closer and smoothed his hair and he kissed her forehead and said, “Shall we?” 

"Aye," he murmured, an arm around her waist. "But you might want to look a little less pleased with yourself. People with migraines don't generally have big smiles on their faces."

"Ah, good point," she said, and strove to assume a pained expression.

Gold went to tell Regina, leaving Belle standing by the front door in the entrance way. She missed his touch and her heart was still beating quickly but she didn’t have time to sort through all her feelings before he reappeared with the Mayor and she had to remind herself not to smile.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling unwell, Belle,” said Regina.

“I’m sorry we’ll be missing your get-together,” said Belle. “But this awful headache came out of nowhere. Maybe it’s from the hot weather we’ve been having.”

“Well, take care, Belle, and you look after her, Gold.” 

And with that they took their leave. As they left the Mayor’s yard the heat wave broke and it started to rain, lightly at first and then harder, and they stopped under a tree part-way back to Gold’s house.

For a moment they stood quietly side-by-side, watching the rain fall. Because they had paused, Gold’s insecurities had time to catch up with him and he was worried he had pushed things too far. 

But then there was a soft touch on his arm and he turned to face Belle and she was smiling at him. She reached to push back his hair and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him and he was more than happy to kiss her back. Finally they broke apart, but kept their arms around each-other, his around her waist and hers around his neck, and stood close, their foreheads touching.

Belle murmured, “I’ve been hoping this would happen for a while.”

“As have I,” Gold responded, his heart singing.

“On July 4th, when you asked if there was anything else I needed, I was so tempted to say you,” said Belle.

Gold laughed softly. “I was so tempted to kiss you anyway.”

And Belle laughed too. “Well, silly us for not doing this sooner.” And she kissed him again. “We have tonight though, don’t we?”

“Aye,” answered Gold, allowing himself to hope. “Aye, that we do. I don’t think the rain will let up anytime soon, but my house is not far if you would want to make a run for it…”

“I would like that,” said Belle, the smile never leaving her face.

And so, holding hands they half-ran (as much as Gold could run) back towards his house, through the rain and gathering twilight, laughing at their predicament and each so happy with the course the evening had taken.


	9. Being Virtuous Can Be Overrated

Belle and Gold half-ran through the rain back to his house, holding hands and laughing at how wet they were getting.

They reached it and Gold unlocked the door, and then they were standing in the entrance hall, quietly regarding each other and dripping on Gold’s floor. The only sound was the rain on the roof and their soft breathing, and each wondered what would come next. As much as they both wanted to be there, for a moment both were still.

But then Belle took a half-step towards Gold and he closed the distance between them and they were kissing again, hungry kisses that demanded more. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and she put her purse on the side table by the door and they came back together and, as if of one mind, moved towards the stairs to go up to his bedroom.

The thought crossed Gold’s mind that things were moving too quickly and that Belle might regret it in the morning, but the enthusiastic way in which she was trying to undo his tie (an action which was complicated by the fact that they were trying to go up the stairs while kissing) was enough to convince him that she felt similarly as he did, or at least was enough to push his uncertainties away for the night. And Belle too wondered that their relationship had taken a great leap, but she decided she welcomed it, and that any discussion on the state of said relationship could wait. There were more important matters to attend to. 

They made it to the landing and continued in a rather undignified fashion into his bedroom, knocking a picture off the wall on their way. Gold had lost his tie and vest and his shirt was untucked. Because of his cane and her lack of extra clothes, Belle hadn’t lost any articles of clothing, but he quickly sought to remedy that. 

Gold leaned his cane against the wall as they entered the room and came to stand in the middle, her hands moving to unbutton his shirt and his to unzip her dress. Together they tugged the dress down, which was harder than it would otherwise have been because it was wet, but they were determined and soon it was crumpled on the floor. She pushed off his shirt and they moved to the bed, ending up with Gold sprawled on top. 

When he had allowed himself to picture the scene that was unfolding, Gold had imagined taking his time, devoting his experience and expertise to ensuring her full satisfaction, but that did not seem to be how the evening was unfolding. Seeking to regain the initiative, he pinned her arms above her head and as she wriggled impatiently at the restriction, he whispered in her ear, “Patience is a virtue, Miss French.”

Belle gave a soft snort of laughter. “I’ve always thought being virtuous was rather overrated.”

Gold laughed in return. “Perhaps you are right.” His breath caught as she pulled her hands free and reached for his belt buckle. The small part of him that could still think asked, “Do we need…?” 

Correctly assuming he was asking about contraception, Belle shook her head and murmured breathlessly, “No. I just need you to kiss me,” and he was only too happy to oblige. 

She fumbled with his belt and he reached to help, pushing down his pants and boxers and then he reached to help her with her underwear. And then he was inside her, driving into her with long, powerful thrusts, and her hips rose to meet him. Her noises of encouragement pushed him on until with an exclamation and a shudder she came, arching into him. He managed the few snaps of his hips to join her and for a minute afterwards they stayed together, but then he pulled out and moved so that he was lying next to her.

Belle shifted so that her head was on his chest, her hand on his stomach and they lay together, limp and content, as their breathing returned to normal. His undershirt had ridden up and she absentmindedly traced circles on his bare skin, lost in her own thoughts.

She was so happy and felt so satisfied, as if she could lie there with him forever. But, because she was someone who always liked to have a plan, to know how to define things, in the back of her mind she wondered if and how she should bring up the subject. The evening had been so wonderful though and she didn’t want to ruin it… She was brought back to the present when he put his hand over hers and murmured, “Stop that. It tickles.”

Belle smiled at that. “Who would have guessed that the feared Rumplestiltskin is ticklish?”

“No one,” Gold mock-growled. “And it had better stay that way.”

“Or what?” Belle loved the playful banter.

“Is that a threat, Miss French? Whatever shall I have to do to keep you quiet?”

“Well, I can think of some things…” she began mischievously.

“Oh you can, can you? Perhaps pancakes would suffice for now? I do believe we skipped dinner.”

“I suppose we did. Pancakes sound perfectly delightful.” Part of Belle didn’t want to get out of bed, but the other part of her reasoned they had all night and she was hungry.

They reluctantly separated. By then it was dark, but enough light came in from outside that they were able to make out the shadowy shapes of each-other as they looked to locate some clothing.

Gold found his boxers and pulled on the pants from the pajamas that had been sitting on his dresser. Belle located her underwear and decided to steal Gold’s pajama shirt. She quite enjoyed his silk pajamas and as she buttoned up the top she realized she still had her bra on and filed that away for something to lose the next time. 

Belle was able to make out a smile on Gold’s face as they came together in the center of the room for a kiss before heading downstairs to the kitchen. Belle straightened the pictures on the walls and Gold picked up the articles of clothing that he had lost on the way to the bedroom and they shared demure smiles, pleased with what had happened and without embarrassment. Neither brought up the question of their relationship status as both were more than content to enjoy the evening and the other’s company without trying to put a label, that would likely be upsetting, on whatever it was between them. 

“It looks like I have walnuts and bananas, but no chocolate chips, unfortunately,” said Gold, once they were in the kitchen and had taken stock of what was there.

“That sounds delicious as is,” said Belle.

“I do have heavy cream, so we could have whipped cream. You can do that.” And he set her up with the electric mixer and cream and then started to assemble the ingredients for the batter.

Belle watched him as she held the mixer and noted the practiced way in which he made the pancakes, from scratch but not from a recipe, and it seemed to her he was well versed in making pancakes. She was about to tease him about it, but then she stopped herself, wondering there was a deeper reason he was so good at making pancakes that wasn’t to be made light of. She thought about how she knew next to nothing about his past, and felt an emotion grow in her chest and she wanted to hug him and feel his arms around her. As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and caught her and raised an eyebrow. 

“You should try to the whipped cream, to make sure it’s done,” she said quickly. 

Gold came over and dipped his finger in the bowl, but instead of tasting it he dabbed it on her cheek. 

“Why, Mr. Gold, how could you!” She pretended to be affronted, but stuck her own finger in the bowl, intending to pay him back in kind, but he grabbed her hand and raised it to his mouth. He slowly licked it off and she felt her heart rate increase and her stomach tighten. As he raised his head from her hand, his eyes had darkened ever so slightly and he was looking at her as he had in the library.

Not letting go of her hand, Gold closed the distance between her to kiss along her jaw and lick the whipped cream that was there. She moved her head so their mouths met and he kissed her hard, pressing her against the counter, before breaking away.

“I think the pancakes are just about done,” he said, his voice low and a roguish gleam in his eye, and turned to tend to them, leaving her leaning against the counter trying to catch her breath and aching for his touch.

But she got out plates and silverware and brought them and the whipped cream to the table, and Gold brought a steaming plate of pancakes. They were delicious and Belle told him so. 

“I quite enjoy cooking. You’ll have to come over for dinner and I can show off some more.”

“I would like that very much,” she replied, but neither let it turn into a discussion about their future. 

Rather, they sat close together and spoke of other things, and, as it had been before, they didn’t lack subjects to talk about. They talked late into the night, and finally, as they were both yawning and full of pancakes, Gold asked her if she would stay over and his heart soared when she happily agreed. 

They slowly made their way back upstairs, more sedately this time, and curled up together in his bed. 

And then, because she felt she had to ask, Belle said softly, “Rumple?” 

“Mmm?”

Belle bit her lip but pressed on. “What happens now?”

“Well…” said Gold, as much to buy time as anything else. Like Belle, he too was hesitant to speak too much of the future, and he wasn’t sure where they currently stood, or where she would like them to be or what she wanted. So he said instead, “I suppose I could ask you out on a proper first date,” and managed to muster a nonchalant tone even though on the inside he was anything but.

And because the euphoria of earlier still hadn’t worn off, that was a fine answer for Belle and she nestled closer to Gold and fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	10. What now?

Belle woke the next morning with Gold pressed into her back, his arm around her waist, his breath warm and soft against he back of her neck. He had closed the curtains the night before but some sunlight crept through anyway, enough to lighten the room, and for a little while Belle stayed in bed, partly looking out at the part of his bedroom she could see (dark wood furniture and lots of books) and partly just enjoying being with him.

Eventually she slipped out from under his arm and quietly padded to he bathroom. As if alerted by a sixth sense that he was now alone in the bed, Gold opened his eyes sleepily. At first he was concerned, but then he heard the water in the bathroom. Smiling, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and waited for Belle to reappear.

When she did reappear, she paused in the doorway and caught his eye and they exchanged a smile. As she slowly walked back towards the bed, Gold thought how she was so beautiful, especially her smile, and surely she was walking like that on purpose… He noted how the pajama shirt went down to mid-thigh and the first few buttons were undone, and her hair was perfectly disheveled…

“Good morning,” he said, his voice a touch raspy from sleep. He cleared his throat. “I hope you slept well.”

“Good morning to you,” she said, sitting on the bed next to him and facing him, her legs crossed and a thoughtful expression on her face. “I slept quite well. And yourself?”

“Splendid,” Gold answered. He sighed, and then continued. He wanted to say what he had been on his mind before he had fallen asleep. “I’ve been thinking though, about what comes next. My response last night was not much of an answer. 

I… I don’t really have a good answer though if you want specifics, if you’re looking for something definable. I’m normally someone who wants everything planned out, and I suspect you are too, but maybe for this we don’t need that. Maybe that isn’t right for whatever this is.

When we started this, it was rather hastily thought out, and I think we let things take their own course. Perhaps we could continue to do that…to enjoy the time we do have, rather than dwell on what may be or figuring out strict parameters.” 

He stopped talking and looked at her, outwardly calm but on the inside his heart was beating quickly. 

“So our plan would be to not have a plan?” But Belle was smiling. “I think that would be alright though. I love spending time with you,” she added quietly. “I wouldn’t want to ruin that.”

“I’m pleased you think so,” said Gold sedately, although his heart was singing on the inside. And then feeling mischievous, he added, “And I suppose on the outside nothing will change much, as the town likely already believes we are having a passionate affair, courtesy of Miss Lucas.”

Belle laughed and buried her face in a pillow. “Haha, oh dear, you heard that? You weren’t supposed to.”

“Oh, I hear everything. I know everything. Knowledge is power.” Gold tried to sound imperious but got hit with a pillow for his trouble. He caught her wrist and pulled her close and murmured, “But, come now Miss French, would you say your previous assessment was accurate? Was there, how did you put it to Miss Lucas, ‘a lot of passion behind the cold front’ I put up?” 

He was smirking now and Belle found him irresistible and she moved so that she was in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, and he stifled a groan as she shifted against him. 

“Well,” murmured Belle, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I can formulate an answer based solely on a single experience…” And she kissed him soundly and he slid his hands up her thighs to her hips. He felt the ridge of her hips beneath the thin material of the shirt and gently rubbed his thumb along it. 

“We’ll have to arrange an encore, then,” Gold said, his voice dropping to the octave that sent delightful shivers through her. 

For a little while they just kissed, taking pleasure in their closeness and intimacy, not wanting to rush the moment, wanting to take their time. Belle cupped one hand around the back of his neck, his hair silky under her fingers, and he smoothed his hands up and down her back.

Unexpectedly he slipped his hands under the shirt, running them up her sides to cup her breasts through her bra. She gasped, breaking the kiss, and twisted against him, causing him to suck in a quick breath. With her help, he tugged off the pajama shirt and then, not to be outdone, Belle reached to pull off his undershirt and reluctantly he let her.

She trailed soft kisses down his neck and shoulder and Gold made a noise of pleasure. He reached to unclasp her bra and pulled it off. Bringing his hands back up, Gold cupped her breasts again, lightly rolling her nipples between his fingers. A quiet sound of longing escaped her and she pushed into him, causing him to groan. She teasingly slipped her hand under the elastic of his pajama pants to brush against his erection and smirked slightly as his hips jerked against her hand, his hands tightening around her breasts. 

But then Gold was pushing off her underwear and sliding his hand down to tease and stroke her. He knew just where and how to touch her and she almost forgot everything else. A hot, aching need filled her and she whimpered as he slid one finger, then two, inside of her. She felt Gold smile against her mouth as she gasped and ground against his fingers.

Belle came back to herself enough to pant, “Wait, wait,” and gripped his arm.

“Is everything ok?” breathed Gold. 

Belle kissed him, murmuring, “Oh yes, but I want it to be with you.”

She pulled off his pants and boxers and then rose up onto her knees and lowered herself onto him, taking the full weight of him inside of her. It was Gold’s turn to moan and he clutched hard at her hips. 

With him inside of her the need eased a little, but not completely. Their mouths met hungrily and as if he could read her mind, Gold slid his hand between them to touch her again, circling and teasing until she was writhing helplessly. She closed her eyes and arched against him, her hips moving harder and faster. 

As she came she cried out, shaking and shuddering around him, her eyes closed and her forehead against his. When she had caught her breath enough to be able to move again, she continued to rock against him in the same rhythm as before, and soon he closed his eyes and groaned as he came, his body taunt and tense against hers. She felt another wave of pleasure as he pulsed inside of her.

Belle stayed in his lap, head in the crook of his shoulder, and he kept his arms around her as their breathing returned to normal. Finally she slid off, staying close, one leg hooked over his, not wanting to part from him.

“My previous assessment was spot on,” she murmured in his ear, smiling the smile of a woman thoroughly satisfied, and kissed him softly. 

Gold smiled back at her and said, “I thought as much,” and pulled her closer, not wanting the moment to end.

Eventually he said, “Perhaps I can tempt you to stay longer with an offer of breakfast?” 

“You just might be able to, especially if you’re cooking. But I think I’ll go take a shower now, if that’s ok. Care to join me?” she asked suggestively, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You go ahead. I’ll take one after you.” 

“Very well.” And with a flip of her hair that made him almost reconsider, Belle disappeared into the bathroom. 

As he waited for her, Gold pulled his pants and undershirt back on and sat on the edge of the bed, thinking through the events of the last twelve hours. 

Soon Belle reappeared, wrapped in a towel. “Erm, Rumple? Could I borrow some clothes? All I have is the dress…”

At the sight of her, her cheeks flushed from the heat, the sparkle in her eye, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosened. Somehow when she was there his concerns felt far away. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Do you really need clothes? I think you’d be perfectly well off without.”

She laughed at that and he got up to look for something comfortable that might fit her. Coming up with boxers and a faded Scotland football t-shirt, he handed them over.

“Do you follow football much, then?” asked Belle, noticing the shirt and grinning, both at the thought of Gold watching football and of him wearing a t-shirt. 

Gold shrugged and said with a wistful smile, “In Edinburgh I loved watching games in the pubs with a pint. That was a long time back though, and here there’s not much interest for the beautiful game.” 

Belle nodded. “It’s not really shown in the bars here, is it? I’d watch the games with you though.”

Gold smiled at that thought. “In Cambridge I imagine you’ll watch a lot of it. You’ll likely be rooting for the wrong team though.” 

And with a parting kiss on her forehead Gold went to take a shower. When he came back, wearing a short-sleeved undershirt and pajama pants, he found Belle curled up in his bed with a book.

He paused in the doorway and, with an impish grin, said, “I like the sight of you in my bed.”

Belle looked up and smiled seductively. “And I quite like your bed. I like it better when you’re in it though. But I believe I was promised breakfast?”

“I suppose I did. How do omelets sound?”

“Like a good reason to get out of bed.”

And so they went down to the kitchen. Gold set her to work chopping onions and mushrooms, while he beat the eggs. 

Soon they were sitting down at his table together with two perfectly formed omelets and mimosas, as Gold had found half a bottle of champagne in his fridge. They lingered over the meal, both reluctant to part ways. 

Finally Belle said, almost apologetically, “I suppose I should get going. My thesis won’t revise itself.”

“Might I request the pleasure of your company for dinner at some point this week, perhaps Tuesday, for a real first date?” Gold asked, sorry for her to leave but keen to establish when he would next see her. 

“That sounds lovely. What time should I expect you?”

“I could pick you up at 7.”

“That works for me. Where shall we go?”

“Let me surprise you.”

“Alright,” said Belle, grinning at him. “I guess I should go change.”

Gold nodded. “I could drive you back to the library. Unless you want to make the walk in the high heels you were wearing last night.”

“Ha. A ride would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise I think I’d end up walking back barefoot.” And with that Belle disappeared back upstairs to change out of Gold’s clothes.

When she returned, Gold was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, and thought, not for the first time that morning, how beautiful she was. He resolved to do his best to be happy their paths crossed for the summer at least, even if the future was uncertain.

“The dress got a bit wrinkled,” she said with playful smile as she reached him . “I must not have hung it up correctly when I took it off.”

Gold smiled back. “I suppose not. I wonder what prevented you from doing that…” And he pulled her into his arms for a kiss. 

In the end they did make it out to the car, although Belle was sorely tempted to stay for longer.

“Until Tuesday, then,” she said as he pulled up in front of the library.

“Until then,” Gold replied. 

And with a parting kiss, she slid out of the car and walked into the library.


	11. Late Night Thoughts

On Tuesday Belle was ready long before seven and she waited in her apartment, fidgeting and watching the clock, unable to concentrate on anything for too long. At a certain point she mentally reprimanded herself, telling herself that she was being silly. 

Nothing had really changed between them, she reminded herself firmly. Even if this was a “real” date, they themselves hadn’t changed. He was the same man who made her laugh and challenged and charmed her. But she had been telling herself that since they had parted on Saturday, and she was still anxious. The fact that this was an actual date, that there was something more than friendship between them, made her worry it would be different than their fake dates. 

Gold pulled up to the library precisely on time. He was anxious as well, and his anxiety was compounded by the weather forecast for the evening. The radio said a surprise thunderstorm was about to blow in. He had planned for them to eat dinner at a little restaurant by the ocean on the road between Storeybrooke and Northern Cove. It was a romantic restaurant, with a predetermined five-course meal that changed seasonally and wonderful views. It was the perfect place to sit outside on summer evenings to catch the sea breeze, but a rainstorm complicated that. 

Belle eagerly went out to the car and got in. “Hello, Rumple!”

“Good evening, Miss French,” replied Gold, more formally than he meant to. His inability to act as if nothing had changed between them irked him all the more.

Deciding to try not to dwell on his change in manner, Belle asked brightly, “So, where are we headed?”

“We have reservations at The Painted Lady-“ Gold began.

“Really?” asked Belle. “I’ve always wanted to go! I’ve heard it’s wonderful. That sounds great.”

Gold was pleased at her enthusiasm, but annoyed at himself for not thinking ahead. “Normally one can sit outside to enjoy the view, but it looks like rain is predicted for tonight.”

“That’s alright,” said Belle brightly. “The ocean is still beautiful, whether it’s calm or stormy.”

They chatted during the drive to the restaurant, but Belle noted that Gold remained reserved and they were unable to reach the easy banter they had had before the weekend. 

The road to Northern Cove went right along the coast and offered lovely views, but Gold was unable to enjoy them. About halfway to the restaurant it began to rain, which didn’t improve his mood. 

“I should have checked the weather,” he said irritably as they arrived. “I didn’t think to do so-“

“It’s fine,” Belle said, trying to sound reassuring. “It really is, I really don’t mind. The food will still be delicious, inside or out.” 

She really didn’t care about the weather, but she was concerned how much Gold seemed to care. Maybe he was anxious too and felt that everything had to be perfect for their first real date. She wished she could just tell him that she was also nervous and that the setting wasn’t as important as the company, but she wasn’t sure how to go about doing so. 

Gold found an umbrella in the car and after opening it, offered his arm to Belle, and they made their way towards the restaurant. But the cobblestone path was uneven and wet, and Gold slipped. 

He didn’t fall completely, in large part because Belle had his arm, and as he straightened, he felt humiliated. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered as they continued. He hated to appear weak.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” said Belle, wishing she could tell him that applied to the whole evening. 

They entered and Gold gave his name to the hostess.

“We have a reservation under ‘Gold.’”

“Ah yes,” said the woman. “A table for two, and you requested a table outside. That will not be possible today-“

“Well obviously,” snapped Gold, more angrily than he meant to. It wasn’t the woman’s fault that the evening wasn’t going as he had hoped it would. He felt Belle looking at him, but stubbornly refused to look at her, glaring at the hostess instead. “I trust we can have a table inside instead.”

“Of course,” said the women, looking taken aback at Gold’s tone. “We have you down for a table by the window.”

And she led them to the table and quickly left them after putting down the menus. 

They had a great table, with an excellent view of the ocean and stormy sky, but as they sat Gold looked decidedly down at the table top, refusing to either look at out the window or meet Belle’s eye. 

He was embarrassed by the flare of temper; it hadn’t been fair and it wasn’t the side of himself he wanted to show Belle.

But then she reached across the table and grasped his hand. “Hey,” she said softly. “It’s ok. Everything’s ok. It doesn’t matter where we sit.”

Feeling even sillier, he hesitantly looked up and met her eyes and returned her smile with a somewhat sheepish one of his own. 

“I’m sorry. I just wanted everything to go well.”

“Stop apologizing,” said Belle firmly. “Nothing’s happened so far that warrants an apology. And things have gone well. I’m excited to eat and I’m happy to be here with such good company.”

Gold shook his head. “I don’t know how good company I have been so far, but I shall do better. It’s the most I can do if I’m lucky enough to have the company of such a wonderful woman.”

His tone was light, but Belle felt her heart beat faster at the level of passion in his eyes. It was there for a moment and then gone and Belle mentally shook herself and wondered if she had just imagined it.

Her words had managed to break the ice and they passed a lovely evening with superb food. There was tuna tartare followed by wild mushroom tortellini and then grilled duck breast with chocolate soufflé for dessert and a cheese plate afterwards. 

By the time they left it was still raining but night had fallen. 

As they entered Storybrooke, Gold tentatively asked, “Would you care to come over for a nightcap?”

“I would like that very much,” said Belle, smiling broadly in the darkness. She had hoped he would ask.

“Lovely,” Gold murmured, and turned towards his neighborhood. 

He parked in front of his house and they got out and walked together to his house, continuing the conversation from the car about what would have happened if the Ottoman Empire’s Janissary units had ever marched against Rome’s legions. The rain had petered off to a light drizzle and the night air was cool.

“Rome would have won, no question,” said Belle.

“Of course you would say that,” said Gold, playing the devil’s advocate as they went inside. “But the Janissary units were the ones that won the Ottomans their Empire. They were the ones who took Constantinople and laid siege to Vienna and captured the Holy Land and swept through southern Europe.”

“The Janissaries were certainly a force to be reckoned with, maybe the best of their time,” acknowledged Belle. “But if you put them in the same time period as Rome’s glory days and took away their cannons and artillery, Rome’s legions would still walked away victorious.”

“But the Janissaries were slaves, trained from when they were young to be an elite fighting force and completely loyal to the Sultan-“ began Gold as they went into the kitchen to get a bottle of wine and glasses.

“But would slaves really fight as hard as free men, as men who were fighting for the ideals of Rome? And Rome had discipline and tactics on its side,” Belle countered as she took the glasses from him and they went into the living room. 

“I think you just refuse to accept that anyone could be Rome’s equal,” said Gold teasingly. 

“Maybe, but only because I’m right,” returned Belle, grinning. 

They continued to chat, flitting from one subject to another, late into the night. Gold’s arm found its way around Belle and she leaned against him. 

During a lull in conversation he glanced at her and she had shifted to look at him and their eyes met and he leaned over to kiss her. 

Belle moved into his lap and the kissing grew more passionate. As he kissed along her jaw to the hollow under her ear and she shivered with delight, the words “I love you” rose unbidden in her mind and only with effort did she stop herself from saying them out loud.

But Gold noticed something was amiss and pulled back slightly to look at her. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse.

“Oh yes,” murmured Belle. “I… Let’s go upstairs, shall we?” 

Gold was only too happy to oblige and so they went up together, holding hands and swapping kisses, neither wanting to let the other get too far away.

Several hours later, they lay together in Gold’s bed, his arm around her, both thinking the other was asleep and both lost in their own thoughts.

Belle thought back to the words she almost said, and wondered if it was true or if it had just been the heat of the moment. Maybe she had meant to think, “I love this,” because he was such a skilled kisser and lover. 

Or had she really meant “I love you.” Did she? The thought had initially surprised her, but the more she thought about it, maybe she really did. She hadn’t known him for very long and he was so different than anyone she had ever met, and yet she was so happy when they were together. He could be moody and distant and hard to reach, but then he could be witty and wonderful and so thoughtful. 

She sighed to herself. Regardless of what she had meant or if it was true, she wasn’t going to vocalize it. She saw no point in doing so; he probably didn’t feel the same way, and even if he did, putting it into words would make it real, and that would only make things more difficult as the summer drew to a close. 

Gold lay awake next to Belle, wondering at what seemed to be happening between them. She could have her pick of men and yet she seemed to be choosing him. And yet... maybe this was just a summer dalliance and he was reading too much into it. 

Maybe it had just been too long since there had been a woman in her life, and so the fact that she was to be able to slip past his defenses and to understand him simply seemed so special because he was so unused to it. 

But she was special, he conceded to himself. She was definitely special. Was there anyway he could tell her how much she meant to him, without making it seem like he was asking her to stay? Was there anyway for their romance to last beyond the summer? 

Maybe, just maybe, such a thing was possible. That thought calmed him, but sleep remained elusive. Finally he got up to get a drink of water and then went over to the window with the intention of closing the curtains. 

But as he reached the window and looked out, he paused. The storm had passed and the sky had cleared, and he stayed and looked out at a sky full of stars. 

Belle watched Gold get up and when he stayed by the window, she got up too and went over to him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re still awake too.”

“Yes. Everything ok?”

“Mmhmm. Just thinking.”

Belle waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she took his hand and said quietly, “Come back to bed.”

Gold closed the curtains and they went back to bed together and that time sleep found them quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think would have won, if the Roman Empire and Ottoman Empire had existed in the same time periods and the Janissaries and Roman legions marched against each-other?


	12. My Song For The Asking

Belle and Gold spent much of the following weeks together. They enjoyed more dinner dates and Sunday matinees, but they also spent many hours at Gold’s house, enjoying each-other’s company. 

Belle worked on finishing her dissertation, reading and rereading, editing and revising, hesitant to truly declare it finished. Gold assisted with proofreading and fine-tuning and final touches. They would start to discuss an idea and quickly get sidetracked; it seemed they had an unlimited number of things to talk about, that there was always something else. Often it would get “too late” for Belle to walk home and she would stay over.

Occasionally Belle’s mind would wander to their relationship and she would wonder if it was possible for it to extend beyond the summer. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted a future with him. She was just unsure about how he felt, and nervous about bringing up such a topic. 

She remembered from their first dinner together that he had hinted he felt stuck in Storybrooke. He certainly didn’t seem to have any love for the town. Over the weeks she tried to subtly ask him about his past to try to find out more, but he was evasive and would skillfully change the subject. She sensed he didn’t like to talk about his past, but because she had come to care a great deal for him, she wondered what had happened to make him cold and distant on the outside, and yet initially flinch at her touch. 

The only way Belle could see things working was if Gold was willing to leave Storybrooke. But he had his life and friends in the town, even if he seemed out-of-place there. And they had only known each other for a few months. He didn’t seem like someone who would make a decision like that solely because of a relationship, but maybe he would welcome the chance to start over. Could she really ask that of him though?

Belle wished there was someone in Storybrooke she could talk to, but her close friends were far from the little town. She finally filled Elsa in on everything that had happened between her and Gold and asked for advice.

“I just don’t know,” said Belle on the phone to Elsa. “I really, really like him though.”

“Have you guys talked about what will happen come the end of summer?” asked Elsa.

“… No. I… I’m hesitant to bring it up,” said Belle, somewhat sheepishly. 

“I think that’s what you have to do. Talk to him about it. Have a conversation.” The always rationale Elsa usually had sound advice, but some things were easier said than done. 

“…Yeah… That’s probably the smart thing to do,” Belle conceded reluctantly, not keen on the prospect of actually bringing up the subject.

“But what? I sense hesitancy on your part,” her perceptive friend said. 

Belle sighed. “I’m just worried that he might not feel the same way. He’s not… he’s not like anyone I’ve ever known. He’s just… different. I almost don't want to know if he doesn't feel the same. And even if he does, that doesn’t solve the distance issue.”

“Well, you shouldn’t let that stop you from bringing it up. If he feels the same way – and it sounds like he does – you two can figure out a solution. I don’t think you would get so attached to someone who didn’t feel similarly. He sounds perfect for you, and I think there’s a good chance he’s just not sure how to talk about it either.”

“Yeah… I guess so. ”

“Talk to him,” Elsa urged. “Then at least you’ll know. And you should probably do so rather soon, as your defense date is coming up, isn’t it?”

And with that they changed the subject of the conversation. When Belle hung up the phone, she reflected that she really hadn’t needed Elsa to tell her she should have that conversation with Gold. It was common sense, but it still didn’t seem like a simple matter.

She made a face and wished that Elsa actually knew Gold, and then maybe she would see how having such a conversation was daunting. She felt it was almost presumptuous on her part to think he felt as strongly about her as she did about him.

But she also knew she would miss him when they parted ways – his intellect and wit and charm, how it felt like he knew her so well, his touch and the feel of his mouth on hers…

*** 

As much as Gold enjoyed helping Belle with her work, part of him was saddened that as her dissertation was being finished and the date of her defense fast approaching, their time together was drawing to a close.

He had tried to think of someway for their relationship to continue, but he had been unable to come up with anything satisfactory. She didn’t belong in Storybrooke; she belonged in one of the world’s top universities. He couldn’t and wouldn’t ask anything else of her.

Partly he was scared to have that conversation, scared she wouldn't feel the same way. He wasn't very good at putting his feelings into words, and if he ever had been, he was long out of practice. But he also didn't want to make their parting any harder than necessary. 

***

The afternoon of the first Thursday in August Gold finished the section he was reading, and with that finished his final proofreading of the whole dissertation. He paused for a moment, not wanting it to be over. 

“Belle,” he said softly, finally. “I’ve finished with this final section. A few small typos, but I think you’re all done.”

She looked up from her computer and reached to take the papers from him. “Thank you. For everything. It’s been wonderful to have someone to help with the revisions.”

“I was happy to help. Do you have a date for your defense?”

“At the end of August. But two weeks before I need to submit the dissertation to the readers, so after that I’ll just be preparing for the defense.”

Gold nodded. “And shortly after that you’ll head to Cambridge?”

“Yup. Term starts later there than here, so I’ll have some time to get settled.” As exciting as that prospect was, Belle’s voice was subdued. And was that a flash of sadness in Gold’s eyes?

Belle closed her laptop and put it on the table. Fiddling with the papers, she figured it was as good a time as any. She glanced at Gold. He was looking at down at a book, but she didn’t think he was reading it. 

Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Rumple…” He looked up, and she continued. “Would you want this, whatever this is, to last beyond the summer?”

Gold’s breath caught. Was she saying that she did? “I would like nothing more than that,” he said softly, an intensity in his eyes. “I have been trying to think of a way to ask you the same question.”

“Really?” asked Belle, biting her lip, hardly daring to hope. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but… but I would like that too. I’m not sure how though.”

Gold nodded and continued with some difficulty. “I… I am not very good at having these conversations. I had hoped to come up with a possibility to present, but I was unable to.” 

Belle’s heart skipped a beat. Was he hinting that he might feel the same way about her as she felt about him? 

“I couldn’t come up with a good idea either,” said Belle. “But I would like it if there could be a future for whatever we have.”

“Yes,” said Gold. “But… but your place is not here. I will always cheer you on, I will miss you a great deal when you leave, but Storybrooke is not for you.” Saying that he would miss her was a gross understatement, but he didn’t know what else to say. Elsa had been right – he had no idea how to have such a conversation. 

Belle suspected it hadn’t been easy for him to say. The words were rather strangled and didn’t seem to fully express the look in his eyes, but it gave her the courage to ask if he would consider leaving Storybrooke. 

“I don’t want it to be goodbye come the end of summer. Would you…” she began tentatively, but paused. Was she really going to ask him to come with her? She looked at the man next to her and the passion in his eyes made her decide to push on, and said in a rush, “Would you ever consider leaving Storybrooke and starting over somewhere new? Would you ever consider coming with me to the UK?”

Gold almost didn’t believe he had heard correctly what she had asked and words failed him. 

Belle misinterpreted the silence and her face fell. She looked away, put her laptop into her bag, and quickly stood up, saying quietly, “Never mind. I’m sorry I asked. It was stupid. I… I’ll see you later.” And she turned and left the living room, heading towards the door.

“No, Belle!” Gold pushed himself to his feet and, cursing his bad leg for slowing him down, followed her.

By the time he got to the hallway she was already at the front door. “Wait!”

Belle turned, hope in her eyes.

Their eyes met and Gold nodded. “Wait. Yes. Yes, I would consider such a thing.”


	13. Gold's Story

“Wait. Yes. Yes, I would consider such a thing.” 

Gold’s words hung in the air for a moment, and then Belle was in his arms, hugging him tightly.

A big smile was on his face as he returned her hug. 

“Really? You don’t have to give a definite answer now, you should think about it, but the fact that you would even consider it-“ Her words came out in a rush.

He stopped her flood of words with a kiss. “Of course,” he murmured. “I did not want to have to say goodbye-“

“But I want you to think about it,” said Belle, interrupting him because she wanted to say her piece before they continued much further. She pulled back slightly, her hands on his chest, his still on her waist, and looked earnestly into his face. 

“To really think about it. I don’t want you to decide just because of me. It just… it seems to me that you might not be happy in Storybrooke, and if that is the case, perhaps you could view this as an opportunity to leave. I would love for you to come with me on this next adventure, but I want for us to make sure it’s the right thing.”

Gold nodded, his eyes bright. “I am happy you had the courage to begin this conversation and to ask me. I think we can figure something out, and I will think on the best way for me to go about moving.”

But then he took a breath and looked away and said softly, “I would love nothing more than to have a future together, but first I think I owe you a story. The story of my past. I am ashamed of what happened and who I was. You should listen, and then decide if you still want this to move forward.”

Belle reached to stroke his face. “I will always listen, whenever you want to talk.” 

They went back into the living room and although Belle sat on the sofa, expecting Gold to do the same, he chose to sit in one of the armchairs.

He looked away from her and wondered how to begin, how to tell the story of how he came to Storybrooke and the events that followed. It wasn’t a story he wanted to tell, but he couldn’t in good faith discuss a future with Belle without her knowing. 

“I suppose I should begin at the beginning. 

“I’m not here to judge,” said Belle, wanting to reassure him that she wasn’t going to change her mind. She recognized she knew very little about the past of the man she had spent the summer with, but she also felt she knew who he was on the inside, even if she didn’t know what had happened.

“When I was a young man, I came to New York from Scotland, looking for a new start and the chance to make a name for myself. I talked my way into getting hired by one of the large banks, and I was able to quickly advance. 

The lifestyle that presented itself – high-risk investing and thousand dollar suits and black market Black Sea caviar – was a different world than the poor fishing town I had left behind, and I was able to reinvent myself.”

Gold paused before continuing. He didn’t want to talk about her, not to Belle, but she was a vital part of the story. Belle deserved to know whom she had invited to share her life. 

“I got married. Her name… her name was Milah. She was from old money, from a storied family. She was high strung and felt the normal rules didn’t apply to her, but… but she was also beautiful and brilliant and knew more about art and art history than anyone I’ve ever met. She worked at a high-end art gallery and could tell you about a newly discovered Raphael painting or the latest club opening in the same conversation.”

There was a faraway look in his eyes as he talked about Milah and New York. It had been many years since he had talked about either, although neither were ever far from his mind.

“Life in New York was a whirlwind for the first few years, but then she got sick. The doctors said she had to go somewhere with better air, away from the city. We chose to go to Maine, to Storybrooke. We thought it might be nice, to have a big house by the sea, at least for a little while, and then maybe we would have returned to New York. But she wasn’t cut out for a quiet type of life, and our relationship quickly became fraught. The adjustment did not go smoothly.

Our relationship had always had a lot of fighting, as we both had tempers, but there was always a lot of passion too. But that passion became harder to find as time went on. Maybe we would have worked something out, but then there was the fire.

In Storybrooke I had gotten involved in real estate and had decided to dabble in the antique trade. So I opened up a small store, the first iteration of today’s pawn shop. I had always wanted to have a hand in the rare book trade, but that never really happened. The first store was in a different location, but it was also more of a pawn shop than an antiques store, although occasionally I was able to come across something interesting.

I was working late one night when the fire started. They were never sure of the cause, but the buildings were old. It moved quickly and the whole block went up. I was trying to save documents when the building started to collapse. I got pinned down – that’s what happened to my leg – but the firefighters were able to get me out.

I woke up in the hospital and they told me I was lucky to be alive. But the recovery was long, and it was a severe blow to my pride. Milah had never gotten used to the town life, and she wasn’t good at taking care of others. And I didn’t make it easy. I hated having to rely on others and I hated any sense of pity, and at the slightest provocation I would flare up. 

It was not uncommon for Milah to storm out, and so on the night in question there was nothing strange about it. She would leave, for a few hours or a day, go to the bar or stay with friends, and then come back, and for a short time we would be ok again. But there would be no coming back from that night. It was winter, and temperatures had dropped below freezing, and there was ice on the road.

The police came to tell me the next day that there had been an accident. I would also later learn that she had been pregnant.”

Belle reached to take his hand. The pain in his voice hurt her, and she wished she could ease the burden of his past.

“The following months were a dark time for me. I blamed myself for Milah’s death, and the death of the unborn child, and the fact that my leg would never fully recover finally set in. 

In the end, it was Regina who saved me. She brought me an old clock and asked if I could restore it. Before the fire I had begun learning about clock restoration processes. At first I refused, not wanting anything to do with anyone, but she dared me, asking if I was afraid of the challenge, and something inside of me - maybe pride, or the inability to let a challenge go by - woke up. The process of fixing the clock helped to bring me back to the world of the living. Not long after I opened up a new store, the current store, which also became more of a pawnshop than an antique shop, but that is Storybrooke.”

As Gold finished his story, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Belle. He had judged himself so harshly since Milah’s death that he found it difficult to believe Belle wouldn’t judge him as well.

But then Belle said softly, “I’m so sorry about what happened. What an awful series of events. But I don’t hold you to blame for them. What happened was a terrible, tragic accident, but it was an accident.”

“I always find myself thinking if we hadn’t had that fight, if it she hadn’t taken that road, she might still be alive. We would have had a child, and maybe things would have turned out so differently. Even if the marriage had fallen apart, I would be a father... It’s hard to convince myself now that the fighting was so necessary then. I don’t even remember what it was about.”

“But hindsight is always 20-20,” said Belle quietly. “We go through each day not thinking it might be our last, and while we can try to prepare ourselves, there’s no way to prepare for every eventuality. We can’t know what will happen. And you can’t hold yourself at fault for that.”

Gold finally looked at her. Love would be the word for the feeling he had for the woman next to him, and he could scarcely believe that they might have a chance at a future together, that she wanted a future with him. 

“I’ve often thought about leaving, but something’s always kept me here,” he said. “At first it was guilt and horror at what had happened, and while that never truly dispersed, shame was added to that over time. Shame that I hadn’t left earlier, that I couldn’t seem to bring myself to just leave and start over.”

“Well, I would like it very much if you would come with me,” said Belle. “I hope that you could see it as a chance to start a new chapter, one away from the ghosts of the past.”

“I think that will be possible,” said Gold, smiling for the first time since he began the story. “Thank you…for asking. For bringing up the possibility.”

“I was worried it was presumptuous of me to propose such a thing,” Belle admitted. “It seemed to me that your life is here… your house, your friends, your involvement with the city council. I wasn’t sure I could ask you to leave that all behind, but of course I didn’t know anything about what had brought you here to begin with, and what happened after.”

Gold shook his head. “No, it was brave of you. I... I was able to create a place for myself after all that occurred, but somewhere like this was never where I truly wanted to end up.”

“Me neither,” said Belle. “So let’s leave, together. But, in the meantime, how would you feel about getting dinner somewhere?” 

She thought a change of scenery would do Gold some good, and he agreed that dinner sounded good, and so, choosing to try the new burger place in Storybrooke, they headed out. 

They settled into a booth and Belle tried to keep the conversation stayed light. She had decided she would carefully ask questions at a later time, to try to let Gold know she would always listen if he wanted to talk, but for the time-being she wanted to try to recapture the happiness when he had said he would consider moving. 

They both got fancy burgers – with onion rings and BBQ sauce and bacon for Belle and with goat cheese and sautéed onions and mushrooms for Gold – and when Belle found out Gold had never tried Long Island ice-teas, she ordered him one.

“I think there’s a reason I’ve never had one before,” said Gold, making a face as he tried his drink. “Bleh.”

Belle laughed at the face he was making. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad! They’re my favorite.”

Gold switched his look to mock disapproval. “Hmm,” he said sternly, but only caused Belle to laugh more. 

Throughout dinner they couldn’t stop laughing and teasing each other. Both felt as though a weight had been lifted, and were scarcely able to believe that what had blossomed over the summer might continue long into the future. 

Afterwards they made their way back to Gold’s house and eventually up to his bedroom. 

Much later, Gold lay next to Belle, sleepy and very satisfied, unsure if she was still awake. His arm was around her, and he thought himself to be the happiest man in the world. After the events of all those years ago, he hadn’t thought it possible to feel so happy again.

“I love you,” he murmured into her shoulder.

Smiling broadly into the darkness, Belle gave his hand a small squeeze and murmured back, “I love you too.”

***


	14. The Eternal City

Gold stood by the window in the apartment in Rome, looking out at the city as he waited for Belle. The window was open and the warm late-summer breeze brought the smells of cooking from the restaurant across the street. 

As he looked out over the domes and notable buildings that made up Rome’s skyline, he smiled to himself as he thought of how he came to be there.

Five years had passed since that fateful summer in Storybrooke. As that summer had drawn to a close, Belle had defended her dissertation and became Dr. French. She had moved to Cambridge and a little later he had moved to London. They had decided they would live separately in the beginning, each with their own place, so that they could find their own footing in the new country. 

And find their own footing they did. Gold successfully opened an antiques and rare book-store, and soon he became known as the man to go to for rare editions. Belle’s classes became quite popular and she turned her dissertation into a best-selling book.

But though they lived apart, they spent their weekends together, alternating between London, Cambridge, and elsewhere in the UK, and often would talk on the phone late into the night, the conversation between them coming as easily as they ever had. 

At the beginning of the current year, Belle had been invited along on an archeological dig in Italy. A new site had been discovered, one with potential to provide a great deal of new information, and she had been eager to be on the ground and play a role in uncovering the new discoveries. 

Gold had been and still was thrilled for her to have such an opportunity – he was so proud of her and impressed with all she had accomplished so far – but he had missed her a great deal over the past months. They had decided that at the end of Belle’s time with the dig he would meet her in Rome and they would spend a week together in the city, and Gold had been looking forward to this day since he had kissed her goodbye in the airport. 

As he watched a cat slink across the roof across the way, his hand went to his jacket pocket, checking to make sure the little box was there. When they had planned the Rome trip, Gold had thought it would be the perfect place for him to ask the question. He had spent the summer looking for the perfect ring, and now he just had to find the right moment. 

Gold was checking his watch again, wishing that doing so would make time go by faster, when there was a knock on the door, and he quickly went to it, a smile already on his face. 

Gold opened the door, and there was Belle, beaming back at him. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes bright.

“Hey,” she returned, and then she was in his arms and he was hugging her tightly. 

“Oh Belle,” he murmured into her hair. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too! It’s so wonderful to see you. I’m so glad this worked out.”

They stayed together for a long moment and only separated just enough so that they could look at each-other’s faces. 

“Italy quite agrees with you,” Gold said, reaching to stroke her face and noting how she was tan and her hair lighter from spending the summer outside. He wanted to kiss her and pull her over to the bed to make up for all the time they had been apart.

Belle leaned into his touch but then said, “We have so much to catch up on, but maybe we can do that over dinner? I’m starving and I want to take a shower.”

“Certainly,” said Gold, reminding himself they had all the time in the world. As Belle disappeared into the bathroom, he resumed his place by the window. He found himself marveling, as he had periodically over the past years, at what a turn his life had taken. 

Soon enough she reemerged from the bathroom and they headed out in search of a little restaurant that had been recommended to Belle. They found it and passed a lovely evening with fine wine and delicious food and stayed late into the night, trying to fit a summer’s worth of conversation into the hours. 

Finally, arm-in-arm, they started to stroll back to the apartment, pausing at an excavation site. There were, in a plot of land about the size of a city block, Roman ruins in the midst of the modern city. Columns and walls still stood, clearly visible in the moonlight. 

“This is one reason I love this city,” said Belle quietly, as they stood looking at the ruins. “The fact that the old stands alongside the new, that the history is still so alive here. Across the city one can still find traces of ancient Rome.”

“It is a special place,” agreed Gold. "I don't think there's anywhere else quite like it."

And for a minute they stood, each thinking their own thoughts, Gold’s arm around Belle, and she resting her head on his shoulder. 

Gold glanced at her, and saw that she was looking at him, and when their eyes met she closed the small distance between them and kissed him. He was only too happy to kiss her back, but all too soon she broke away.

“I guess we should get back to the apartment,” she said playfully as he tried to kiss her again.

“If we must,” said Gold, his voice low.

“And we should hurry, because it’s been much too long,” she murmured.

“Indeed it has.” He offered her his arm.

“And I haven’t just missed talking to you…” she said in his ear as she took his arm.

He laughed softly as they made their way back, trading kisses, both eagerly anticipating what was to come.

Back at the apartment the door had barely shut before they were in each-other’s arms again. After several months apart they couldn’t get enough. Gold shrugged off his jacket as Belle undid his tie. 

She pulled away and sat on the bed and slipped two fingers under his belt to pull him to her, and he came to stand between her legs. He slowly ran his hands up her thighs to her waist and knelt. As he moved to unbutton her jeans, he said softly, “Lean back.”

She leaned back partly on her elbows, pulse racing, her body thrilling to feel his touch again and said thickly, “Wait…with you…” 

“All in good time,” murmured Gold, and even though it was dark, Belle knew he was smiling that roguish smile she loved. She let herself fall back on the bed, surrendering to him completely, for the first act at least.

***

Belle and Gold had a wonderful week, revisiting favorite places and exploring new sights. They admired the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, stood on the stage of the Coliseum, marveled at the ruins of the Forum, imagined chariot races where the Circus Maximus once stood, and strolled through museums. They also passed many hours in cafes and restaurants, catching up and enjoying everything Rome had to offer in the culinary realm, from artichokes in the Jewish quarter to fried cod to delicious pasta dishes to tiramisu, all accompanied with fine Italian wine. 

Near the end of their week, they decided to leave the city to see what remained of the Appian Way and the notable sights along the remaining road segment and have a picnic. The Appian Way once connected Rome to the southern seaport of Brindisi, and was an engineering marvel. Strategically vital, it had been one of Rome’s most important roads and was the road along which Spartacus and his fellow rebel slaves had been crucified.

As they took the bus out to the starting point, Belle flipped through the guidebook and said, “We have to see the Catacombs of St. Sebastian.”

When Gold didn’t seem as excited as she thought he should, she added, “You know, they’re in The Count of Monte Cristo.”

Gold shook his head. “I’ve never read it.”

“What? It’s so great, full of plotting and revenge and… How can that be? How could I not have known that? How have we been together for five years and I didn’t know that?” said Belle in mock outrage.

Gold held up his hands in a mock surrender. “I’ll be sure to read it when we get back.”

“Good. You better,” she returned, elbowing him and finally breaking down and smiling. 

He nudged her back and smiled and shook his head and thought how much he loved her. 

They got off the bus and walked the ancient road, pausing at several sights and taking the tour of the St. Sebastian catacombs before deciding to have their picnic in the shadows of the ruins of the Circus Maxentius. The circus (a racetrack for chariots) had once been part of a larger complex, but only some of the walls and towers remained, standing tall in the grassy field. 

They chose their spot and Belle sat down and lay back, sighing happily. The weather was beautiful and the sweet smell of summer grass hung in the air. It was a peaceful spot, quiet except for birdsong. 

“I love this,” she said, gesturing at the towering stones. “I love the image of ruins against the sky. And this country. And our trip. It’s been wonderful. I’m sorry it ends tomorrow.”

Gold nodded, but his mind was on something else. It seemed to be the perfect moment to finally ask the question. 

And so, with a little difficulty, he lowered himself into a kneeling position. Belle looked at him questioningly and sat up.

“I know how much you love it here. I love seeing how much you love it, and how passionate you are about your field of study. And I love you, for so many more reasons. And even though our trip does end tomorrow, I would like to ask you to join me on a new adventure, one that will never have to end.” 

Gold paused and pulled out the little box. Belle had figured out what he was doing and was beaming at him. 

“Will you, Belle French, marry me?” 

“Oh Rumple, of course I will.” And she took his face in her hands and kissed him hard. 

Gold put the ring on her finger and then she threw her arms around him. They stayed together for a long moment before Gold’s balance faltered and they fell onto the grass. Gold ended up on his back with Belle on top of him, her hands on her chest, and they were both laughing.

“Remember when you caught me at the library, and we ended up like this?” asked Belle, in no hurry to get up this time.

“Aye, I do,” answered Gold, smiling back at her. “That was quite the summer.”

“I’m so happy you suggested the fake dating. I’m so happy with what it led to,” said Belle. “And I’m so happy at the idea of being with you forever and always.”

“And I can think of nothing better than to share the rest of my life with you” said Gold.

They had their picnic and finished their day and their vacation, both thinking how in some ways everything had changed between them, but in other, more important ways, nothing much had changed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and following along! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you've enjoyed it.


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